


Learn To Leave A Room

by GarbageVanFleet



Category: Greta Van Fleet (Band)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23211268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarbageVanFleet/pseuds/GarbageVanFleet
Summary: Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it.Warnings: alcohol use
Relationships: Jake Kiszka/Reader, Josh Kiszka/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

_“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.”_

_—_ Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “[How to Grow the Brightest Geranium](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.breakwaterreview.com%2Fsingle-post%2F2016%2F08%2F26%2FMarcelo-Hernandez-Castillo&t=MGVjYmM2NGVjOTEyZDkyMzgxMzVhODU1MjAzNGNhYzkyMzA5MjAyMSxBb0hQUmZwRQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Ay5_af3k9CEpTAAyIJmS6ag&p=https%3A%2F%2Fcloudbeam.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190832967553%2Ffleurishes-i-am-not-ashamed-the-story-goes-i&m=1),” published in Breakwater Review 

You are many things. You’re a good daughter, a loyal friend, and a mother to four houseplants. You are not, however, a morning person, which is why being ripped away from your warm bed at 6 am is less than ideal. You’ve never been able to say no to Lucy though (not that she’d give you any choice), which is why you’re sitting across from her in her favorite diner as the sun rises outside. 

Lucy has been your best friend since middle school, through thick and thin, and you love her to death. She can find the right words in any situation, and she always manages to look beautiful, even at this ungodly hour. 

Her curls are always soft and shiny and at first, you think she might be glowing but the closer you look, the more convinced you become that she’s wearing highlighter. You frown. You could barely manage to throw your hair up in a bun this morning, let alone think about makeup- 

  
  


“Hey, hello?” Lucy is leaning in, grinning expectantly. “Are you listening to me?” 

  
  


You shake your head apologetically. “Sorry, Lu. I’m still waking up.” 

  
  


“Want some more coffee?” she asks, but she doesn’t wait for your reply before waving the waitress over. You think most people couldn’t get away with something like that, but she’s so sweet and soft-spoken that everyone melts - even the busy waitress. Lucy kindly asks for a refill for you both so you take that moment to finish the rest of your cup. You’re not sure whether to be grateful or a bit embarrassed when the waitress takes a look at you and then decides to just leave the carafe. 

  
  


“Also, is now an okay time to tell you Josh is joining us in a couple of minutes?” Lucy asks sheepishly, cutting you off from your thoughts again. 

  
  


“I had expected nothing less,” you say, giving her an assuring smile, though it’s not entirely true. You’re not upset at all, it’s just that you can remember a time when it was just you and Lucy against the world. You used to eat lunch together every day and study every night in high school. When she met Josh, it had somehow seamlessly started to become Lucy, Josh, and you. Third Wheeling. 

Josh is impossible to dislike, you think, no matter how badly you wish you could. He’s simply too charming and handsome, despite being a bit too loud and a lot less funny than he thinks he is. 

  
  


“You can invite your guy,” Lucy suggests excitedly. You shake your head instantly, huffing a nervous laugh. 

  
  


“No way. It’s too new,” you explain, fiddling with the handle of your mug aimlessly. “It would be awkward.” 

  
  


You’re not facing the door, but you can tell the exact second that Josh steps through it, both because the little bell rings, and because Lucy’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. You lovingly shake your head and take a sip of the fresh coffee. 

  
  


“Oh, he brought Jake,” she says offhandedly. Your heart skips a beat, and despite telling yourself not to, you turn your head to look. Josh is oddly put together for this hour as well, and you silently wonder if he and Lucy are turning into the same person. You hear that can happen when you’ve been dating long enough. 

When your eyes catch on Jake behind him, you snap your head back around and groan under your breath. 

You had not been prepared to see Josh this morning. You had not even been well prepared to see Lucy this morning. You were absolutely not prepared for Jake. 

It’s not like you don't see him often enough. Lucy drags you along to the Kiszka house nearly every time you hang out, and you can’t say you  _ really  _ mind. Their house is always warm and cozy. It’s just that...

  
  


You shoot a glare at her, but she just laughs and shrugs her petite shoulders.

  
  


“I swear to god, I thought he was coming alone,” she assures. 

  
  


You’d never tell Lucy, but you’ve always thought Jake was the more attractive twin, even well before she had started dating Josh. He was just so effortlessly cool and collected in comparison. 

On a whim, you quickly stand and slide in next to Lucy, ignoring her questioning look. In a hushed tone, you turn your head to her and say, “If Josh sits next to you, then I have to sit with-” 

  
  


She cuts you off with a laugh and just as the boys reach your booth, she subtly reaches over and locks her fingers with yours under the table. The little squeeze she gives lets you know she understands.

  
  


“Hi, babe,” she greets, pulling her hand from yours. She leans across the table and strokes her fingers down Josh’s cheek. “Good morning.”

  
  


“Oh my god,” you whisper in slight disgust as Josh turns his face to place a kiss against Lucy’s palm, but they either don’t hear you or don’t care. You pull your cup of coffee up to your face to try and hide the unavoidable eye roll that follows PDA of that level. Over the rim of your mug, you catch Jake smirking across at you, seemingly reading your mind. He’s got his arms folded over his chest, instantly looking relaxed into the vinyl seat. 

  
  


“Jake,” you say in way of greeting, as you push the warm carafe across the table towards the boys. “Coffee?”

  
  


Josh is far too busy talking to Lucy to hear you. Well, that’s actually not quite right, you think. More like talking  _ at  _ Lucy, at the speed of a mile a minute. Lucy certainly doesn’t look like she’s suffering for it though - she’s got her elbows on the countertop, her chin resting in her delicate hands. She seems to be lapping it up, eyes a little dreamy. 

Jake seems to be even better at ignoring them than you are. You try not to stare at his fingers as he reaches forward and turns the unused mug in front of him right-side-up, but if your eyes linger, you can’t be blamed. 

The four of you fill the morning with small talk, consuming more coffee than you think could possibly be healthy. The diner only gets busier and the smell of warm maple syrup and bacon makes your stomach growl. 

When the sun rises completely, it shines in through the windows and warms your face pleasantly. It casts a comfortable, golden light across your table, and you don’t realize that you’re staring at the way it hits Jake’s face until he raises his eyebrows at you. 

You’ve tuned out completely again - who knows for how long this time, so you try not to look startled when Lucy takes your hand to get your attention. 

  
  


“Doesn’t that sound fun?” she prompts expectantly. You nod at her, although you’re sure she knows that you have no idea what she’s been saying. 

  
  


“A party sounds fun, right?” she reiterates sweetly. 

  
  


“Oh, yeah. Parties are always fun,” you agree. You go to take a sip of your coffee, but find that it’s gone cold. “When?”

  
  


Josh huffs a laugh at you, presumably because all of this has already been said. “Tonight. Our place.”

  
  


You smile sheepishly back at him. “Sorry, I’m really not used to existing outside of my bed at this hour.”

  
  


“You can invite your boyfriend,” Lucy suggests excitedly, causing the smile to drop right from your lips.

  
  


“Boyfriend?” Jake quips, eyebrows raised at you. You try not to look like a deer in the headlights. 

  
  


“You never mentioned that you have a boyfriend.” The tone of Josh’s voice is a little too coy for your liking. 

  
  


You can feel your face starting to warm, and you furiously try to will the blush from setting in. “It’s really recent. And it’s way too short notice to invite him for tonight.” You direct the last part at Lucy, trying to convey how much you don’t want to have to introduce your new man to your friends yet.

  
  


But Josh smells blood (or in this case, intense dread) in the water, and he’s on it like a shark. “We can move it to Friday night then.”

  
  


“Oh, no,” you quickly object. You wish you could figure out why your stomach is in such tight knots, but you’re drawing blanks. “Don’t reschedule on my account.”

  
  


No sooner are the words out of your mouth before he’s cutting in again, his lips turned up into a wicked-looking smile. “I insist. No trouble at all.” 

  
  


You know you must look like a cornered animal, because Lucy presses her shoulder against yours, and in the most comforting voice possible says, “Hey, it’ll be fun. I’ve been looking forward to getting to know him better anyway.” 

  
  


Neither of them gives you a chance to think of a reply before they continue on about the party. You think they’re talking about what kind of alcohol to get, but you’re already considering what disease you’re going to say you’ve contracted. You think there’s no way they’d let you attend a party if you had - say - leprosy. 

  
  


When you glance up, Jake is already looking at you from across the table. He’s wearing that smirk again, but this time it’s smaller, more subtle. You can’t tell if he’s just mirroring his brother’s energy, or if he can tell how badly you want to throttle Josh and he thinks it’s amusing. You hold his eyes for a beat longer than you should, but you manage to rip them away as Josh puts a twenty on the table. 

  
  


“Coffee’s on me this morning, ladies,” Josh says, but there’s not a single hit of devious energy in the smile he gives you and Lucy now. 

  
  


You scowl at him and huff annoyedly. “As long as you’re handing it out, I’m suing for emotional distress.”

  
  


You wish you could prevent it, but the way Josh tips his head back and laughs makes you crack a smile.

  
  
  


+++

  
  
  


You put it off for the next couple of days. You don’t want to think about the impending party, and you don’t want to think about your boyfriend. Picking up a couple of extra shifts at the cafe keeps it all out of your head, for the most part. You tell yourself it’s because you’re too busy - you’ve got lots of things to do. But secretly, although you would never admit it to anyone, you were hoping that if you waited until the very last second to invite him, he wouldn’t be able to come. His name is Mitch. You’ve only been seeing him for a month or so, and you had never made a conscious decision to move from “talking” to “going out” to “boyfriend”. It just kind of happened, the same way the seasons slip by without your permission.

He was just a fun guy that you met at work. He ordered a black coffee, and even though he had seemed like he was in a hurry when he walked in, he sat down at the counter and sipped on it as he talked to you. You had done next to nothing for him but pour him a cup, but when he left, there was a ten and a napkin with his number scrawled across it under his empty cup. 

He wasn’t particularly kind or handsome, but you gave him a chance - had a drink with him once and things just went from there. He never gave you any reason to stop seeing him, so you didn’t. One date had turned into two, and then three, and before you knew it, he was sending you emoji hearts and dick pics that weren’t unpleasant. 

It’s Friday morning, and you’re sitting on the edge of Lucy’s bed. Your feet are stuffed into a warm pair of slippers as they dangle just above the floor and you’ve been watching her go through her closet for at least half an hour. She keeps pulling out skirts, holding them in front of her form and assessing them in the mirror, only to decide that she doesn’t like the top she’d attempted to pair it with. 

You run your hand over her blankets, still messed up from where you’d both slept last night. You hadn’t been intending to stay over, but you had a pair of pajamas and a toothbrush there for this specific purpose. 

  
  


She turns to you, a dress on a hanger in front of her body and she looks distressed. “What do you think of this one? Is it too much for a house party?”

  
  


You shrug. “Maybe, but you always look perfect in everything, so I don’t think anyone would notice. Can we get coffee?”

  
  


She waves you off. “In a minute,” she agrees, turning around to hang the dress back onto the rack. “What are you wearing tonight?”

  
  


“Not sure,” you admit, laying back and staring up at the ceiling. You don’t see her expression, but you’re positive that her pretty face is scrunched up in a frown. 

  
  


“You haven’t thought about it? Do you want to borrow something of mine?” She doesn’t give you enough time to agree before she adds, “Maybe you should see what Mitch is wearing so you don’t clash.”

  
  


You can’t help but suck in a sharp breath as your stomach sinks, and you see her head whip around out of the corner of your eye.

  
  


“You did invite him, right?” she blurts, but her tone suggests that she already knows the answer. 

  
  


You groan at her. “I completely forgot.” It’s not actually a lie, but you don’t add that you had been trying to forget. 

  
  


“Oh my god, you should right now!” 

  
  


You nod, staring at the little glow in the dark stars on her ceiling. It’s silent for a beat before she speaks again, this time a lot quieter like she’s trying not to say the wrong thing. 

  
  


“Unless. Are things not going well?”

  
  


You sit up, shaking your head. “No, everything is fine,” you assure, forcing your voice to remain level. “I’m not like. One hundred percent invested in it, but everything is just fine. I think I’m just nervous to introduce him to everyone.”

  
  


“I get it. I’m sure everything will go smoothly though,” she assures. “We’ll go easy on him.”

  
  


You are positive that she’s not speaking for Josh, but you thank her anyway. She turns and dips her hand into the closet. You can hear her moving hangers around for a second before she pulls out the shortest dress you’ve ever seen. “Now how slutty do you want to look?”

  
  


+++

  
  


You had texted Mitch while you were in the shower, waiting for your conditioner to set in. You thought you were going to get lucky because at first, he had said he had plans, but he quickly texted that he would absolutely blow them off to party with you. You tried to tell him not to - that it was totally cool - but he insisted, and that’s why you’re sitting next to him on the Kiszka family couch. Lucy is on your other side, leg pressed against yours, and Josh is sitting on the ottoman in front of the three of you. Lucy was right; things seem to be going fine so far. It’s somewhere around 11 pm, and you’ve even felt comfortable enough to get a little loose on whatever pink shit she keeps giving you. 

Josh is leaned in, chatting easily with Mitch about...some kind of sport? You wish you could hear better, but the music is too loud. You briefly think that maybe letting Sam DJ was a mistake. You’re pretty sure that the eclectic playlist is not in the same tastes as most of the other attendees, but you completely understand how Sam ended up in charge of it. He was far too pretty to say no to. 

Lucy is significantly more drunk than you are. You can tell because she has adopted a hazy look, and her body is entirely more relaxed than usual. She leans in, speaking loud enough you can hear her. 

  
  


“You wanna dance? I’m bored,” she asks and her pout forces a laugh out of you. 

  
  


“Maybe a bit later. I need to be drunker for that, I think,” you reply, giving her shoulder a nudge with yours. Lucy frowns back at you, but it isn’t seconds later that she’s physically dragging Josh into a standing position and onto the dancefloor. He tries to object, but it’s weak and half-hearted, and you guess it’s only for the benefit of not offending Mitch. He gives your boyfriend an apologetic smile before taking Lucy by the waist and you watch with a slight pang of envy as they start to sway, hips pressed together tightly.

The song changes to something not quite as abrasive, and you give a little sigh of relief. It’s just quiet enough that you finally feel like you can have an actual conversation, so you turn to ask Mitch if he’s having a good time, but he’s not paying you any attention. He must be more intoxicated than you thought because he’s so melted into the couch that his drink is threatening to spill out of his cup. You go to reach for it, trying to avoid staining the cream-colored fabric below. When you slip it easily out of his hand without any objection, you realize why - his eyes are glued to a girl across the room. She’s beautiful, scantily clad, and dancing so low that you’re truly impressed with how strong her legs must be. 

Mitch realizes that you’ve caught him only a beat later and he flashes you a cocky smile. 

You aren’t angry - maybe closer to annoyed. You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t let you make any kind of comment. In one swift, abrupt motion he pulls you over him until you’re straddling his lap, and the shocked yelp you let out is luckily lost in the music. You are suddenly immensely grateful that you didn’t let Lucy talk you into that sinfully short dress, because if you had, your whole ass would be showing in this position. 

His attempt at doubling down is obvious, but that doesn’t stop you from sharply demanding, “What are you doing?”

  
  


You may not have been that upset before, but you are now that you’re looking at his stupid face. He laughs at you, hands on your hips and leans in to press his nose against your neck. You hear him talking to you, lips directly against your skin, but you’re so embarrassed that everything sounds like static. 

You go to push off of him, but over his shoulder, you catch Jake leaning against the door frame into the kitchen. He was chatting with a group of people, but when he looks over and sees you, his body tenses. You instantly feel your face run hot when you meet his eyes because you’re acutely aware of what it must look like you’re doing. 

You’d seen him earlier when you first arrived, but you didn’t realize how good he looked until right now. His long hair is pushed back, letting you take in his whole face at once. The chiseled features are even more sharpened by a light sheen coming off of the string of fairy lights that Lucy had been intent on hanging. 

His outfit isn’t complicated, just a dark pair of jeans and a black leather jacket, but he’s making the ensemble look exactly as it was meant to be. 

He’s giving you a look that you can’t place, but it’s somewhere between smug and shocked. Whatever it is, it’s intense enough that it makes your breath catch in your chest.

Mitch picks that moment to press a hot kiss against your throat, sucking the skin and causing your lips to fall open. You whine as you feel his teeth scraping your skin because it stings. Any evidence of a smirk has vanished from Jake’s face; his eyes flick away like he can’t watch anymore. He shoves off the doorway and disappears into the kitchen, leaving his friends to shrug and continue their conversation without him.

The second he’s not there any longer, you push away from Mitch with admittedly too much force. You stand, but your legs are wobbly, both from the alcohol and from the odd sitting position you’d just been in. You try to head toward the kitchen, but Mitch’s hand is suddenly around your wrist.

  
  


“Where are you going?” he asks, and you almost feel bad because he looks truly confused, and you think maybe he’s too drunk to really figure out just how he’s fucked up. But the thread of guilt quickly unravels as your fingers find your neck, pressing into a tender spot that you can only guess is going to be an unwanted love bite. 

You rip your hand away from him, giving him the meanest look you can muster.

  
  


“What am I supposed to do? I don’t know anyone here,” he objects, frowning back at you with a look of shock. 

  
  


“Then get lost,” you suggest coldly. The hurt puppy look on his face tells you that you should regret being so harsh, but you just don’t. You leave him there on the couch as you start weaving your way through people. Lucy is giving you a concerned look from across the room, probably having just seen the whole display, but you offer her an assuring smile back. You hope she doesn’t worry too much, but you really can’t focus on anything other than making your way through the house. 

The kitchen is crowded with giggling girls and the overwhelmingly sweet smell of perfume and alcohol but is noticeably missing the one person you’re looking for. The people around you seem to get less and less sober the closer you get to the end of the kitchen, and you think the spread of booze and mixers across the kitchen counter might be to blame. 

The only other way out of the kitchen is through the back door, which is naturally blocked by a whole crowd of people. You try to politely signal that you’re trying to get past, but when that fails, you decide you’re not above shoving your way through. Everyone is gawking at you as you pass like you’re disrupting them, and you guess you are, but you’re too determined to care now. You wonder if Jake had to elbow his way through too, but no - you’re one hundred percent positive that they parted easily for him.

The autumn air hits your face as you open the door, and the not unpleasant smell of tobacco smoke on the wind tells you that you’re not alone. Your stomach lurches. Jake is standing a couple of feet from you, a cigarette between his lips. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly was not the humored look painting his face. It’s silent for a moment too long before you realize you’d been so intent on finding him that you hadn’t even remotely thought about what you’d say when you did. Lamely, you land on, “There you are.”

  
  


He exhales a cloud of smoke through tight lips. “Here I am,” he agrees. His eyes flick down to your neck, and your hand instantly reaches up to cover the spot you’re positive he’s looking at. 

  
  


He breathes a laugh. 

  
  


“I’m sorry.” You’re not sure exactly what you’re apologizing for but your voice sounds more pained that you’d let it if you were sober. It feels like an eternity as he takes another drag, leaving you anxious. 

  
  


“That’s my family couch. We watch movies there,” he says, but his teasing tone puts you just slightly more at ease. He cracks a smile at you and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “We eat meals on that thing.”

  
  


“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t appreciate it either,” you assure. Without allowing yourself to think twice, you reach out and pluck the cigarette from his fingers. A stunned look washes over his face as he watches you raise it to your lips. A warm feeling rises in you as you realize you’d never seen him look so earnestly shocked, and you’re the one that made it happen.

  
  


It’s fleeting though - he fixes his expression quickly and steals the cigarette back from you, giving you a faux-scolding look. “Didn’t you pay attention in health class? These are bad for you.” 

  
  


You can’t help but laugh, leaning back against the railing in front of him. You try to keep your tone light. “You saw everything then?”

  
  


“More than I was supposed to, I would imagine,” he agrees with a nod. “Where’d you dig that guy up from anyway? He seems like an asshole.” He takes one last drag and then drops the cigarette. It leaves behind a tiny char spot on the wood where he stamps it out with his boot. 

  
  


You give a quiet laugh and look away, but you can feel the intensity of his eyes on you. “He’s a nice enough guy.” You’re not positive why you still feel the need to defend him, but it makes Jake roll his eyes amusedly. 

  
  


“Please,” he starts through a smug smile. “If you really liked him, I can’t imagine you’d be out here right now. Did you just leave him in there?”

  
  


Your eyes widen, shocked by how forward he can be. Feeling rather small under his brazen judgments, the most you can muster is a nod in confirmation. 

  
  


He gives a low snigger, shaking his head. “You should get back in there before he leaves then. Since you’re so into him.” 

  
  


The wind picks up, which is good because now you have something to blame for the goosebumps rising all across your body. You’re staring at him silently, not sure what to say, and not sure about how you feel. Well, that’s a bit of a lie - you’ve never been less concerned about Mitch in your life, and you’ve never been so wracked with the need for someone’s approval.

  
  


“I’m not,” you admit quietly, leaning back against the wooden railing. 

  
  


When you look back at him, he’s wearing that smug smirk again - the one that’s almost signature to the Jake Kiszka brand. 

  
  


“I know. What are you going to do about it?” he challenges.

  
  


You shrug your bare shoulders, and it’s quiet for a beat before you try to speak again. “I blew up at him and told him to leave.” 

  
  


Jake gives you an impressed look. “Wow, good.”

  
  


You frown at him. “Why wow?” you ask, the suspicion in your tone making him laugh.

  
  


“I don’t know, you just seem too nice.”

  
  


Annoyance causes your frown to deepen, you go to say something, but he cuts you off.

  
  


“Don’t look at me like that. How long would you have let that relationship go on before you finally put it out of its misery?” Your lips purse in agitation at his patronizing tone.

  
  


Dodging his question, you scoff. “I’m not that nice. I do plenty of bad things.”

  
  


He looks all too pleased with himself, like the conversation ended up here by design.

  
  


“Like what?” His voice is lower now. Quiet. “Take a drag off of someone else’s cigarette?”

  
  
  


You’re close enough to him that you could lean in and kiss him with ease, but you’re fairly sure that’s what he wants you to do. If he expects it, it won’t be satisfying enough. The urge to truly impress him is stronger than you’d like to admit. 

  
  


You reach down to take his hand in yours, and he lets you. 

  
  


You aren’t normally one to misbehave - as much as you hate to admit he’s right - but he makes you want to. 

You pull his hand up to your face, and he cups your chin in his cool palm. He looks collected, but you can tell he’s waiting to see what you’re going to do next. You don’t want to disappoint him - you want to give him a good show. Before you lose your confidence, you wrap your fingers around his wrist, holding it there in front of your face. Infuriatingly slowly, you tilt your head down, parting your lips and taking his thumb into your mouth. It’s completely silent, save for the sound of the breeze and the muted music from the house, so you can hear the exact second that his breath catches in his throat. You feel electric, but you honestly can’t tell if it’s from how sexual the moment is, or how satisfying it is to see him struck silent. 

All the Kiszka boys are gorgeous, but the way his face looks as you run your tongue along his skin makes your muscles weak. You let your eyes flutter closed, so you’re not expecting it when his other hand finds your hip, holding you exactly where you are.

  
  


“Jesus,” he says on an exhale. You hum around his skin, and a moment later, you pull his hand away from your mouth. It leaves a light, smokey taste on your tongue. He looks like he can’t find a single thing to say for a few moments. You can feel him start to pull you in, but both of you jump as the door swings open. You manage to step far enough away from him to not look conspicuous just as Lucy pops her head out.

  
  


“Oh my god, I finally found you.” Her words are pretty sloppy, but you smile and nod. “What are you doing out here?”

  
  


Your heart is pounding, but you try to keep a relaxed pose.

  
  


“Just needed some air after all of that,” you reply, voice quavering, but Lucy is far too drunk to notice.

  
  


“Did you know that Mitch just left?” Her brows are tipped up in a look of utmost concern. 

  
  


You shake your head no but quickly change the subject. “It’s cold out here, Lu. You should head back inside.”

  
  


Her frown deepens, and you realize that she isn’t going away unless you go with her. 

  
  


“I’ll come inside in one second,” you assure, tone taking on a bargaining nature. “And I’ll take you up on that dance.”

  
  


She suddenly beams at you, nodding so quickly that you’re not sure how she doesn’t make herself dizzy. “I’ll make you a drink.”

  
  


You laugh and go to tell her to slow down, but she’s gone before you can utter another word. 

  
  


To your slight dismay, when you look back at Jake, he has completely collected himself. It feels like progress lost. If you didn’t notice the way his eyes linger on your lips as he pulls out another cigarette, you’d think everything was perfectly normal. There isn’t anywhere on Earth you’d rather be right now, but you acknowledge that Lucy will be back out to get you if you take too long.

You consider staying - trying to find all the ways you can convince him of your mischievous side further - but you settle instead for reaching down for his lighter, and he lets you take it from his hand. He’s staring directly into your eyes, which makes it hard for you to focus on lighting the cigarette in his mouth, especially as the flame illuminates the high points of his lovely face. When it’s ignited, he instantly takes a drag and breathes it out through his nostrils. You tuck the lighter into the front pocket of his jeans.

As you go to open the door and head inside, you catch him shaking his head with a smirk. 

The feeling in your stomach is strange and foreign as you make your way into the living room to find Lucy, but as you sway back and forth with her on the rug, you realize that it must be some form of relief. You know you should feel guilty, but you don’t, even in the slightest. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Obviously you have to talk to him.” 

  
  


Despite being nearly noon, it’s still too early for this conversation. Lucy has dragged you back to the diner, hoping to nurse your collective hangovers with some coffee and a greasy breakfast, but all you had really wanted to do was crawl into your own bed.

  
  


“You can’t just leave things like they are. I mean, he is still your boyfriend until you actually break up with him, right?” she tries again. You know she’s right. She’s always so insightful about these kinds of things, and hung-over you is a little annoyed by her sound logic. 

You had told her a very selective recounting of what had happened last night, leaving out anything to do with Jake. You weren’t ever planning on telling her the rest.

You and Lucy had stayed over at the Kiszka residence, cuddled up together on the couch, but you - very luckily - did not have to see anyone else before you had left. 

  
  


“I know. I will eventually,” you assure, staring down at the half-eaten cheeseburger you ordered and wondering if you can take another bite. You opt instead to pick at it with your fork. “Mostly I want him to have to think about it all for a while. Get in his own head.”

  
  


She giggles at you. “Mind games,” she says in the way of agreement. She’s silent for a moment as you watch her stir her milkshake with her straw. “I’m sorry he did that to you. I could tell that you didn’t want to invite him; I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

  
  


You shake your head at her. “It’s so not your fault. I think it’s good that I figured out who he really is early on. You know, before I actually got to like him.”

  
  


“You didn’t really like him?” Her tone is sheepish. 

  
  


You shake your head. “It was fun at first, but no. I will miss the regular sex though,” you add, making her laugh. 

  
  


“Well, I guess you’ll have to just kick him to the curb and get back out there. You’re going to find someone that’s going to treat you right.”

  
  


You nod in agreement and give her a thankful smile, but somehow you feel that you won’t be joining the dating scene for a while. 

  
  


+++

  
  


Mitch never does text you, so you decide you won’t either. It feels a little unresolved, but you’re honestly grateful to not have to deal with the confrontation. He had never left anything at your house, and you hadn’t taken more than one or two pictures together, so you forget about him pretty easily.

You do feel anxious off and on, but you don’t think it’s from the breakup. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you pick up an extra-long shift at the cafe to fill your time. Fall is the start of the busy season for baristas, so you very infrequently have a moment to dwell on anything at work. 

After a long day of steaming and steeping, you cannot wait to get home and wash off. The most you ever feel like yourself is in the shower - it’s always a mental cleansing process just as much as a physical one. Soft music starts to play from the speaker on the bathroom counter as you connect your phone. 

You turn the water to the perfect temperature to warm you up from the walk home, and it feels borderline euphoric as you step under the spray. You let the water wash over you, but the second you close your eyes, you snap them back open with an anxious feeling. 

You try it again. You lean back, close your eyes... but to the same result. 

You stand and stare blankly at the shower wall. 

  
  


“Fuck,” you breathe. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Jake looking back at you from across the living room. 

The lights on his face, the contrast of his dark hair against the white door frame - you can even hear the music that was playing. All of it. It’s haunting you.

You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to will it away, but you can’t stop your brain from playing the image back to you. 

  
  


“Fuck,” you whisper again, a bit more desperately this time and slump against the cold shower wall. You stay there, staring at the tile in front of you until you realize that the issue isn’t going to go away. 

You give up and wash your hair, absent of the task. A slight annoyance slips over you because you can’t even enjoy the ritual with your mind so preoccupied. You take a deep breath and let your eyes slip closed as the warm water rinses the soap away. 

He’s waiting for you in the black, but this time you’re on the patio with him, watching him smoke his cigarette down to the filter. It’s only for a moment, but in that moment you can smell the smoke. Feel the leather of his jacket. Taste his skin. 

You remember the intensity in his eyes as you sucked his thumb into your mouth and you try to recall every little thing about how he looked at that moment. You groan at yourself, realizing just how stupid you are for ever letting yourself feel like this. 

When you step out of the shower, you promise yourself that you won’t think about it anymore, but you still do. You try to bargain with yourself. 

  
  


_ You won’t think about it again after tonight _ , you think, but you know it’s a lie.

  
  


You blow dry your hair in the mirror and stare at the spot on your neck that Mitch had left you with. It’s faded to the point that it’s nearly undetectable, but you can see it. You want to hate Mitch for it, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re acutely aware that if he hadn’t done that, you would have never had the time you did with Jake. The party would have just been normal and you would still have Mitch’s number saved in your phone. Jake was right, who knows how long you would have kept dating him, despite the lack of interest on your part. 

You lay down in bed with your warm pajamas on, your feet dangling off the side and your cell in your hands. Jake’s contact information is pulled up and you flip to the Messages tab. You’ve only ever messaged him a couple of times; once when he asked you about a song you had been playing that he wanted to know the name of, and once when Josh and him were coming to pick you and Lucy up and he was messaging that they were waiting outside. 

You lay the phone face down on your chest and stare up at your ceiling. Your heart is fluttering as you think about what would happen if you called him. Right now. 

It’s just a reckless idea - you’d never do it - but that doesn’t stop your eyes from flicking to the clock on your nightstand. 

It’s 11 pm. Would he even answer? What would you say if he did?

You roll your eyes at yourself, suddenly embarrassed at how stupid you’re being. The covers are chilly as you slip into them, but thankfully, they warm up quickly. You fall into a pleasant sleep, and even though you had sworn you wouldn’t dream about it, you still do. 

  
  
  
  


+++

  
  


You wake up to your phone notifying you of a message, but you ignore it for a few minutes, trying to force yourself back to sleep. It’s five minutes later that you realize it’s not happening, so you reach a hand over for your phone. 

  
  


**Lucy 10:23 am**   
  


_ What are you up to tonight? _

  
  


A smile finds your lips. She’s always had an uncanny way of knowing when you needed her, and some girl time was exactly what the doctor ordered, you think.

  
  


_ Absolutely nothing. Wanna hang? _ you reply. You crawl out of bed and allow yourself some time to stretch your muscles before you head for the bathroom. You’re brushing your teeth when you hear a new message come in. 

  
  


**Lucy 10:41 am**

_ For sure _

_ Movie at Josh’s. Pick you up around 5. _   
  


Your heart jumps.

  
  


“Fuck,” you rasp, but your mouth is still full of toothpaste, and now your mirror is dotted with white speckles. You finish brushing frantically before texting back.

  
  


_ Maybe just a girl night? _

  
  


Because your life is currently such a mess, you’re not at all surprised that Lucy takes nearly half an hour to respond.

  
  


You lunge for the phone the second you hear the notification sound, nearly dropping the Poptart that you’ve just finished toasting. 

  
  


**Lucy 11:10 am**

_ Don’t be silly, I already got the movie  _

  
  


You have no idea how that prevents you from just watching it alone with her, but you don’t want to make her suspicious, so you don’t press any further. 

The rest of your day is spent acting like a middle schooler. You are not ready to see Jake Kiszka again. What if he says something to you in front of Lucy? Explaining it to her would be a nightmare. What if he was just drunk and doesn’t actually have any interest at all?

You’re not  _ positive _ you’ll see him, so you try to convince yourself that you probably won’t. It decidedly does not work. 

You pointedly try not to think about what you’re going to wear, but despite yourself, you already have an outfit picked out by the time 4 pm rolls around. You try to reason with yourself as you eye your makeup bag.

  
  


“It’s a movie,” you remind yourself into the mirror. “We are just watching a movie in the dark and you are not putting on makeup.”

  
  


You try to be firm, but you’re weak and you end up glaring at your reflection as you apply mascara. 

Lucy is late when she arrives to get you, but it doesn’t matter, because you still feel like you haven’t had enough time to worry about everything thoroughly. Feeling unprepared, you climb into her car. 

  
  


You try to calm yourself by listening to everything Lucy is going on about as she tells you about her week. You know that she can tell that you’re nervous because she starts talking about her cat - a subject that always makes you feel better.

She’s so used to being at the Kiszka house that when you get there, she doesn’t bother knocking. She just lets herself in and hangs her coat and scarf on a hook by the door.

  
  


“Babe,” she calls out into the house, and Josh emerges from the kitchen and sweeps her into an embrace. You try not to listen to their loved up talk, you don’t feel like you have the stomach for it with the state you’re in. 

Josh greets you with a polite hug. You smile back genuinely until you realize that you have no idea if Jake told him anything, and suddenly you have a whole new nightmare to explore in your head. You try to talk yourself through it as you follow them through the hall to the living room.

He didn’t give you the shit-eating grin that you would expect to receive if he did know something. You’re also pretty sure that he would tell Lucy, and Lucy would absolutely ask you about it. You breathe a relieved sigh as you settle in on the couch.

Sam is sitting the wrong way in a reclining chair, his long legs hanging off one of the arms. He looks so gangly that you can’t help but laugh at him and he gives you a cheesy smile back. 

Since the recliner is taken, you get cozy with Lucy sandwiched between you and Josh, and a fuzzy blanket across all your laps. You want to ask if Jake is going to be joining you guys, but you chicken out. What if Josh does know about what happened at the party, and by some miracle, he just didn’t tell Lucy? You don’t want to seem like you’re thinking about Jake - even though you absolutely are - so you just stay silent. 

You try to get into the movie. You and Lucy both love anything in the horror genre, but you’d already seen this one in theaters with her, and you try not to be annoyed that she’d pick a movie you’ve both already seen, presumably just so Josh could see it as well..

It’s considerably less scary the second time around, so about halfway through, you find yourself bored. You excuse yourself to use the restroom, mostly just so you can stretch your legs, as the couch isn’t that big and fitting three people on it is a squeeze. Lucy asks if you want them to pause the movie, but you wave her off, telling her you’ll be right back.

You head up the stairs and down the hallway, and you’re just about to turn the corner to the bathroom when the breath gets knocked out of you with a  _ thump _ . It doesn’t hurt, but a shocked noise escapes your lips before you can stop it. A pair of hands find your hips instantly to help steady you. It takes you a second to realize that you’ve just slammed into Jake - face first - but as soon as you do, you hold your breath. You must have a horrified look on your face because he breathes a laugh.

  
  


“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you squeak. “What are you doing here?”

  
  


Deliberately slow - like he’s trying to make sure you’ve got your balance back - he pulls his hands away. Through a disbelieving grin, he says, “Well, I live here. It’s more like ‘what are  _ you _ doing here?’.”

  
  


You can feel your face turning pink. “Right. Lucy and I are here for a movie,” you explain. You haven’t made an effort to step back away from him, and you can’t bring yourself to yet. His hair is wet and slicked back, and you’re annoyed it looks so good on him - you always look like a drowned cat when you get out of the shower. 

He hums in understanding but doesn’t say anything else. He just raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. 

  
  


Just above a whisper, you chance, “Are we going to talk about it?”

  
  


He feigns consideration. 

  
  


“We could,” he says with a nod, his lips stretching out into a mischievous smirk. “Or we could pick up where we left off.”

  
  


You subtly pull the sleeves on your sweater down to your wrists in an effort to hide the goosebumps that are rising on your skin. You open your mouth, but you’re truly at a loss for words. You had a full week to think about this, but you realize you never got around to allowing yourself to figure out what you’d say to him. He gives you an ample amount of time to think of a response, but the only thing you can do is stare at his lips.

  
  


“What’s the matter?” he asks, his voice is like silk. It’s quiet, but commanding. A tone you’d use if you had someone's wrists cuffed to your headboard. “Where did all that confidence go?”

  
  


He didn’t have as much control the last time you were this close to him, but he definitely does now, and you can tell that this is exactly how he’s comfortable.

  
  


“Pretty sure my liver cleared it all out Saturday morning,” you reply, swallowing hard. The words had come out softer than you’d intended. He’s smug as he seems to give you a once over, and your chest tightens under his gaze. 

  
  


“That’s a shame.” 

  
  


You can smell his shampoo as he brushes past you - something minty and pleasant. The sharpness of it helps ground you a little, but as soon as he disappears down the stairs, you slip into the bathroom and slump against the closed door. The whole exchange only lasted a couple of minutes, but you’re left feeling exhausted. You consider staying in the bathroom forever - maybe setting up a nice nest of towels so you never have to see anyone for the rest of your life, but then you remember that you have your favorite kind of yogurt in your fridge at home, so you’ll have to come out eventually. Instead, you just stand in front of the sink and splash cold water against your face as you try to collect your thoughts. 

You don’t see him the rest of the evening, and for that, you’re simultaneously grateful and annoyed. Multiple times you think about marching back up to his room, but that's as far as you get. You still have no idea what you’d say or do once you got up there. 

Lucy takes you home after the movie, and she offers to stay the night, but you tell her you’re wiped and that you’re headed right to bed. You go to get out of her car, but she places her hand on yours where it’s rested on the center console. 

  
  


“Hey, so Josh and I were talking,” she starts, and your stomach tightens. You’re suddenly positive that she’s about to tell you that she knows everything, so you hold your breath. 

  
  


“About birthday plans. So he was thinking that since I’m going to be leaving in a week, he’s going to throw me a party at his house next Saturday,” she finishes excitedly. You smile at her, trying not to look scared. 

Lucy’s birthday is in early November, and every single year since you met, you’ve spent it together. This year, however, her parents surprised her with a trip abroad. You had been planning on having a nice dinner together just before she left, but you suppose that it  _ is _ more efficient to just have a party with everyone. 

  
  


“That’s great,” you agree, squeezing her hand. 

  
  


“I’m so excited, I’m just hoping you can help us plan it all?” She gives you her best puppy eyes. “Since I’m going to be so busy packing and making sure I have everything together.”

  
  


You take a deep breath and nod in agreement. “Of course. You can count on me, Lu.”

  
  


She beams at you and leans in to give you a cramped car hug.

  
  


When you’re back in your room, you shoot Josh a message asking what he’d like you to be in charge of. Your body feels tight, so you head to the bathroom and draw yourself a bath, setting the water as hot as it will go. 

  
  


**Josh K 9:38 pm**

_ thinking probably cake  _

  
  
  


You frown at your phone and shoot back,  _ just cake? _

  
  
  


**Josh K 9:41 pm**

_ yah  _

  
  


You set your phone down on the tile by the bathtub and roll your eyes. “Idiot,” you say out loud through a smile. You undress and sink into the water slowly, and it’s so hot that it turns your skin pink, but the slight pain is grounding. A message notification sounds from beside you, so you extend a wet hand to grab it.

  
  


**Josh K 9:48 pm**

_ Lucy wants to do decorations herself n sam threatened suicide if he cant dj  _

  
  
  


You huff a laugh.  _ What are you getting her for a present? _ , you send back.

  
  
  


**Josh K 9:51 pm**

_ secret :) _

  
  
  


**Josh K 9:52 pm**

_ maybe just birthday sex  _

  
  


You leave it at that, grateful that Lucy has someone so loving in her life. You think she deserves it, even if it does gross you out now and again. 

You spend the rest of your time in the bath willing yourself to relax and trying to figure out why the last three words Jake said to you upset you more than the entirety of your last interaction with Mitch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Actual sexual content

_“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.”_

_—_ Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “[How to Grow the Brightest Geranium](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.breakwaterreview.com%2Fsingle-post%2F2016%2F08%2F26%2FMarcelo-Hernandez-Castillo&t=MGVjYmM2NGVjOTEyZDkyMzgxMzVhODU1MjAzNGNhYzkyMzA5MjAyMSxBb0hQUmZwRQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Ay5_af3k9CEpTAAyIJmS6ag&p=https%3A%2F%2Fcloudbeam.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190832967553%2Ffleurishes-i-am-not-ashamed-the-story-goes-i&m=1),” published in Breakwater Review

The cake is perfect. It’s exactly what you had ordered - a vanilla cake with blush pink, buttercream frosting. Little edible pearls spell out Lucy’s name. It’s uncanny how perfectly it mirrors her personality. 

It lives in your fridge for six hours before you head to the party, next to a carton of orange juice and a bag of baby carrots. You think about it periodically while you get ready, trying to remind yourself not to forget it when you leave. 

Lucy had requested that you wear something “really cute for pictures”, so you had gone and bought the most pastel dress you could find at Forever 21 and hung it in the back of your closet. 

You’re trying to figure out if it makes more sense to do your makeup first and risk smearing your foundation on the dress as you slip it on, or put the garment on first and risk dusting powder on it. You weigh the options as you lay out every product you want to use, but in the end, you decide to slide the dress on and then tuck an old t-shirt into the neckline like a bib. It looks stupid, but it gets the job done, because you do drop a pea-sized glob of concealer onto it, and it surely would have stained the lilac-colored fabric.

You run your fingers through the loose curls that you’ve shaped your locks into, and straighten your dress in the mirror. When you’re finished, you grab your keys and your phone, and you do get all the way out to your car before you realize you forgot the cake. 

  
  


It’s only 6 pm when you pull up to the Kiszka house, but Lucy had texted you earlier asking if you wanted to come and help her put up decorations, so you agreed. You’re glad that you did because she’s hectically taping candy pink streamers around the supporting boards on the ceiling. 

  
  


“Lucy, wow,” you say. “You look incredible.”

  
  


And she does. Her long blonde hair is in a loose, fishtail braid down her back and she’s wearing a party dress the exact color of the cake you’d brought. She only turns her head to look at you and give you a smile. 

  
  


“Thanks, babe. I’d look better if I didn’t have to sweat my butt off _rehanging_ these streamers,” she explains, shooting Josh a look, who you realize is leaning leisurely against a doorway instead of doing any work. He grins at you, feigning innocence.

  
  


“I don’t really feel like there’s a wrong way to hang them,” Josh argues lightheartedly. “I guess I just don’t know about taping shit.”

  
  


You breathe a laugh at him and cross the room to give him a one-armed hug, careful to not risk dropping the cake. He takes it from you and disappears with it in the kitchen. There are heart-shaped mylar balloons everywhere; across the ceiling, tied to the stair railing, framing the doorways. 

  
  


“It looks like Valentine’s Day in here,” you say sweetly and Lucy hums back at you.

  
  


“I have a lot left to do, but isn’t it pretty?” 

  
  


“It’s gorgeous,” you agree. 

  
  


You had been completely distracted by everything that you hadn’t worried about Jake once since you got there, so when he steps into the living room through the kitchen archway, it knocks the smile right off of your face. 

You are not sure of much in your life, but you’re positive you’ve never seen him look so good. He looks like the antithesis of this party, dressed in a ripped pair of dark-wash jeans and a button-down that’s undone down to the base of his sternum. An array of long necklaces rest over the exposed flesh. 

The nerve. 

Looking at him is like trying to look directly into the sun, so you try to keep your eyes trained on anything else, but it’s nearly impossible. Lucy is turned away, and Josh is still in the kitchen, so you steal a glance over again. Since you’re the least lucky person you know, he meets your eyes, and the smirk he offers you back makes you wish you could choke him to death with all his stupid jewelry. 

  
  


“Can I help with something, Lu?” you ask, snapping yourself back to reality. 

  
  


“Wanna spread the glitter?” she asks in a sing-song tone. 

  
  


You frown deeply at her. 

  
  


“Glitter?” Jake asks in a tone that mirrors your exact confusion. “You know this is a house party, right?”

  
  


She nods at him but doesn’t say anything else.

  
  


You know you can’t reason with her, but you also know that you should try. “Lucy, isn’t glitter going to be a little messy? How are you going to clean it all up?”

  
  


“I’m not,” she responds through a grin that shows her blindingly white teeth. “It’s my birthday, so you guys are.”

  
  


You feel your face fall into a sour look, but she just keeps grinning at you. After a good five seconds of silence, you sigh and she points at a gallon-sized bag of glitter on the coffee table.

  
  


“For my birthday, I’m going to make you fill this entire house with foam like a rave,” you threaten. “And then, the morning after, I’m going to make your hungover ass eat it.”

  
  


She lets out a genuine laugh that makes you feel warm, so you can’t stay mad at her. 

  
  


“Wouldn’t it all melt?” Jake asks, playing along. 

  
  


“Then she can use a straw,” you say, but you still end up spreading glitter across the tables.

  
  


Half an hour later, you’re trying to dust tiny reflective pink stars off of your hands when you hear Lucy gasp. She had been setting cups out on the table, but now she’s staring at you with wide eyes. 

  
  


“Shit, we forgot to get alcohol!” she squeals and turns to look at Josh. “Is there anything left from the last party?”

  
  


He shakes his head. “Definitely not enough.”

  
  


“Will you pretty please make a booze run?” she begs you, looking like she’s about to cry. “I’m not even close to done here.”

  
  


“Of course I’ll go.” You start heading towards the door when Josh calls Jake’s name and it echoes through the house. 

  
  


Jake calls back a “what” from his room, but you can hear him start to make his way down to the living room.

  
  


“I’ll send Jake with you,” Josh explains, and then to Jake as he reaches the bottom stair. “You’ll escort her to the liquor store, right?” 

  
  


You try to stop it but your eyes pop open wide. “No, it’s okay. I’m perfectly capable of making it there and back.”

  
  


“Just go with Jake so he can help you carry it all,” Lucy insists like you’re being stupid, which you are. “You know what I like, and we need _at least_ the same amount we had for the last one.”

  
  


You watch Josh hand Jake his debit card and then he ushers you both along. 

  
  


He doesn’t say it, but you figure that Jake is driving when he leads you out to his car, and you clamber in. The bench seat is freezing against your bare legs, and you feel like it’s somehow gotten colder out since you left your house. He must notice you curl in on yourself because Jake flicks the heat on high as soon as the car is started. 

On the drive into town, you’re acutely aware of the small amount of space between the two of you. There’s no center console, so the only thing separating you is a couple of cassette tapes and an unopened pack of cigarettes. 

You chance a look at him and instantly regret it. 

His profile is so unbelievably beautiful, from the slope of his nose to the way his hair rests on his shoulder. It’s starting to get dark out, but what’s left of the natural light makes his jaw look knife sharp. He licks his lips absently, but you can tell he’s aware that you’re staring at him now. It feels safer here, without the threat of Lucy or Josh’s prying eyes. Just you two in a glass box. 

Once your brain gets the idea that you need to touch him, you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried, so you don’t. You reach over slowly and place your hand on his thigh, but you force yourself to resist the urge to slide it up any further. 

  
  


He looks down at it and then over at you, and he breathes a disbelieving laugh. 

  
  


“You know, you’re starting to give me whiplash,” he says, but there’s no malice in his tone. His eyes flick back to the road. 

  
  


Your fingers press tighter into the fabric of his jeans as you open your mouth to speak. “I’m sorry,” you reply, but you know you’re not, and so does he. You wish you could tell him what you want, but you can’t quite find the words, so you just settle for focusing on the feeling of his leg beneath your palm. You leave it there the rest of the ride into town, but you manage to rip your eyes away and watch out your window as the shedding trees pass you by. 

When he pulls into the parking lot and turns the car off, you share a blank look. He’s not wearing that cocky smirk anymore, and you think he’s truly trying to figure out what you’re going to do next. But the joke is on him because not even you know. 

  
  


You head inside with him close behind you and grab a cart. A bottle or two of every type of alcohol you can think of finds its way in and you pull a bottle of birthday cake flavored vodka off a shelf. You smile down at it as you set it in with the rest. After you pick out mixers, you’ve got enough to last through three parties, you think. The cashier gives you a look that makes you think maybe you’ve gotten too much, but he rings it up all the same. 

You’re about to ask him to split the tab up, but Jake shakes his head and hands Josh’s card over. 

  
  


“We’ll get it,” he says under his breath.

  
  


You’re more than grateful to have him along as you pack everything into the backseat because you can admit when you’re wrong, and there’s no way you’d be able to handle all the bags yourself. 

The sun is completely gone as you hop back into the front seat, so the ride back is pretty dark, and you’re a little grateful because it eliminates the temptation of stealing looks at him. However, that doesn’t stop you from placing your hand back on his leg, maybe a little higher up this time, but hey, who’s keeping track?

You keep thinking about his outfit. He normally dresses somewhat like that, doesn’t he? You can’t recall ever being quite so taken aback by his appearance. By the time you’re just a minute away from home, you’ve convinced yourself that he’s dressed like this deliberately, and it makes you wonder if he’d done the same for the last party. 

He parks the car, but you don’t make an effort to get out, so neither does he. He looks over at you expectantly, an eyebrow cocked slightly.

You hold his gaze and, heart racing, you start to slide your hand farther up his thigh. His eyes flick down at it, but it isn’t until your fingertips are brushing over his zipper that he grabs your wrist. The motion is so quick that it startles you a bit. You hold your breath, suddenly worried that you’ve gone too far. 

He looks like he’s considering letting you keep going, but after a few seconds he lets out a shaky laugh. 

  
  


“We need to get back inside,” he says, but his voice has taken on that tone again. The silky one that commands your attention. 

You laugh breathlessly back at him and he lets go of your wrist. You don’t let yourself feel like a scolded school kid as you get out of the car, but you can feel yourself blushing. 

Josh opens the front door and jogs out, Sam just behind him. 

  
  


“Where’d you come from?” you quip at Sam.

  
  


“I was napping,” he says through a goofy smile.

  
  


You feign outrage. “Are you telling me that I was spreading glitter and you were _sleeping_?”

  
  


“In my defense,” he starts and then brushes past you to open the back door to the car. “There’s no way I’d help with glitter. And being in charge of the music is a really exhausting job.” 

  
  


“I’ll gladly take it over for you,” you tease. It would be nice to be able to hear yourself think this time around. 

  
  


“You can pry it out of my cold, dead hands.” 

  
  


Josh ushers you inside empty-handed, and you smile gratefully at him. It takes the boys two trips to bring in the bags, but as soon as they’re set down on the kitchen counter, you start to unpack them. Lucy trots up to your side, giving you a hug.

  
  


“Thank you so much for going to get all this,” she whines and you hug her back. “You’re a great friend.”

  
  


“I know,” you tease. You can see that she’s been busy since you’ve been gone. There’s now little heart-shaped sugar cookies and chocolate dipped pretzel sticks laid out around the house for snacking, and you cannot imagine a reality where there isn’t pink and white frosting puked all over this house in the morning.

You grab out five shot glasses from the cupboard as the boys join you in the kitchen. Lucy looks absolutely delighted at the sight of her special birthday cake vodka, and after pouring you each a shot, you hold your glass up and turn to her.

  
  


“To Lucy,” you say and she beams a smile at you. “And to Valentine’s Day in October.”

  
  


The alcohol is so sweet that it makes you cough, but you laugh as Lucy picks up the bottle and takes another pull. She disappears into the living room with it under her arm.

  
  


As soon as people start arriving, they don’t stop until the house is packed. You get to catch up with old friends from high school, and you drink until you’re feeling nice and loose. This time when Lucy asks you to dance, you don’t put it off. You twirl around with her, and she doesn’t let go of the bottle of vodka the entire time.

The house is warm from so many bodies and it makes your hair stick to your skin. Luckily you had thought ahead to wear waterproof makeup, so when you find yourself checking it in the bathroom mirror there are no smudges to clean up - only flecks of pink glitter dusted across your nose like freckles.

The cake finds its way out unceremoniously and Lucy’s so drunk that she just swipes frosting off the top of her slice. You watch her lick it off of her finger and then offer it Josh to do the same and you shake your head. He laughs at her, but you look away before you see anything else, opting instead to make yourself another drink.

You wind your way through people, too drunk to care too deeply if you bump into anyone. The concoction you mix is a bit too strong, but the cup is too full to add more mixer, so you don’t make any moves to fix it. You’re thinking about trying to stir through it with a straw when you notice that Jake is standing feet away from you. Has he been there the whole time? You think yes, especially when you realize the girl that’s standing between you and him is having a full-blown conversation with him. You want to laugh at the lump in your throat that feels suspiciously like envy.

He doesn’t look deeply invested, but he’s nodding and laughing at all the right moments. You’re not sure he’s spotted you until he locks eyes with you over her shoulder. It’s only for a second, but it makes your face hot, so you rip away and weave back into the living room, praying that he doesn’t think you were eavesdropping. 

  
  


You sit with Lucy and Josh on the couch where Lucy is trying to talk with you about a conversation she had with a high school friend. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s too drunk, or because you are, but you’re having trouble understanding her, so you just nod along. You have no idea what time it is, but people are finally starting to leave, and it gives you the warm feeling of a successful party as people come and say their goodbyes to the three of you collectively. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about him before, but now for the rest of the night, you are hyper-aware of Jake’s presence. Every time he’s in the same room as you, your eyes are on him, and you have the sense to feel a little embarrassed about it. At first. But every sip of alcohol sees a fraction more of your inhibitions out the window. 

You should be at least trying to listen to Lucy, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jake standing by the staircase. He sets his drink down on the railing and goes to pull the pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and looking back at you, he flicks his eyes toward the kitchen - an invitation for you to follow. 

You go to excuse yourself, but Josh and Lucy are already standing to hug someone else goodbye, so you’re able to slip away undetected. 

The rest of the house is really starting to clear out, but the kitchen is still the most populated as people rush to get one more drink before it’s all over. You’re easily able to shoulder past them to make your way through, and you find that Jake is already waiting for you on the porch when you get out there. 

The October air is chilly, and you think you’d be colder if you weren’t so full of alcohol. Still, you wrap your bare arms around your chest to preserve heat, and you unabashedly watch his fingers as Jake pulls a cigarette out and slips it between his lips. You’re impressed with how sober he can act as he fumbles with his lighter, especially since you’ve been watching him drink all night. Once he gets it lit, you watch him take a drag. 

Neither of you says a word, but the silence is comfortable as you just stare at each other. You wish you could play coy - pretend that you weren’t sure if you were going to end up fucking him, but you know, and so does he. 

The way his eyes rake up and down your body makes your breath catch. It feels like his gaze is touching you, leaving your skin to tighten in its wake. You think he might kiss you - you’re hoping - and you brace yourself for it, but he doesn’t. He just smirks at you, and a drunken worry that he can read your thoughts crosses your mind.

When he finishes his cigarette, he stubs it out into the railing, then he gestures you back toward the door and follows you in. You’d only been out there a few minutes - or at least you think it was only a few minutes - but when you reenter, the kitchen is nearly vacant. The only people still lingering are Sam and a girl under each of his arms, one of them brushing her fingers through his hair. You laugh at them on your way past and receive a grin from him in return. 

The living room is completely empty, save for Lucy, who has just shed her heels onto the hardwood and is currently pulling off her earrings. 

  
  


“Wow, everyone left so quickly,” you remark, and you have to tell yourself not to look as Jake slips past you and disappears up the stairs. 

  
  


“I kicked them out,” Lucy replies sweetly. “It’s pretty late. Hey, do you want me to stay down here with you?” 

  
  


You give her a questioning look before you realize what she’s talking about. “Oh, no. I’ll be okay. I’m pretty used to sleeping on this couch.” You pat the back of it, giving her a smile. 

  
  


“Are you sure? Or maybe you want to come sleep with us upstairs?” 

  
  


The look Josh shoots her makes you laugh a little too loud and you shake your head. 

  
  


“Lucy, go. I’m going to be just fine.”

  
  


Josh has to help her up the stairs, but as soon as you’re sure that they’re in his room, you slip into the kitchen. Sam (and his girls) have disappeared too, and you allow a sigh of relief. You fill a glass with water and sip at it with the weak hope that it’ll lessen the hangover you’re due for in the morning. 

Back in the living room, you pull a blanket out of the wicker basket by the tv stand and place it over the couch. You stare at it ruefully for a brief moment before roughing it up to look used, just in case someone happens upon it and wonders where you are. A pang of nerves feels like hot fluid in your veins as you flick off the lights. As you’re heading up the stairs, you try to be completely silent. You’re relieved that you can’t hear anyone throughout the rooms, but you also eye the bathroom door, just in case anyone pops out and you have to pretend that you’re too drunk to find your way around.

You pause a second in front of Jake’s door, your hand on the knob. It’s only after you take a deep breath and count to three that you can turn the knob, even if it’s frustratingly slow.

You’re praying that the hinges won’t squeak, so you aren’t expecting it when the door is pulled the rest of the way open from the inside. You gasp as his hand finds its way to your hip and he gently tugs you into the room. He is decidedly less quiet as he shuts the door behind you with a _thud_. 

  
  


“ _Jake_ ,” you scold through a grin. You feel his fingers press into your hip just a fraction tighter.   
  


His room is dark and your eyes aren’t adjusted yet, but you realize how close he is as he breathes a laugh and it’s warm against your face. 

  
  


“Stop worrying so much,” he says, and for the third time in your life, that silky commanding tone of his has you feeling weak. He presses you back against the door and instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck. When he brings his face closer to you, the smell of smoke and cologne in his hair is intoxicating. You curl your fingers through the strands and press your body back against his until you’re flush together. 

You’ve been anticipating it for so long that the first time that he kisses you, you can’t help but let out a moan at how satisfying it is. He hums a laugh against your lips, but you’re too drunk to feel self conscious about it. He tastes incredible as you start to lick into his mouth, your lips slipping together. He slides his hands down your back, slowly enough that you’re anticipating what he’ll do next. Another, dirtier sounding, moan escapes you as he cups your ass, pulling your hips closer. His fingertips knead into your flesh through the fabric of your dress, and you enjoy the warmth that washes through you. 

Your heartbeat picks up as his right-hand starts to wander lower until it’s wrapped around your thigh. When he starts to wrap your leg around his waist, you think you might lose your balance, but he counters the weight flawlessly, pressing you tighter into the door for support. He situates you until his leg is between yours. Your dress is riding up high enough that your panties are what slides against the denim of his jeans. The breath you let out is embarrassingly shaky as he teasingly rocks you forward, grinding you against his thigh. It’s silent enough in the space between you two that he hears it perfectly, and your sound pulls a smug hum from his throat. You kiss him again, deeper this time because the nerves are melting away with the pressure against your core. He lets you work yourself against him, but between the feeling building in you, and the sound of his timed breathing, it becomes increasingly hard to focus on what your lips are supposed to be doing. Your face feels as hot as the point where you’re meeting his leg, and you don’t realize how wet you’re really getting until you can feel the slip of your skin against your panties.

  
  


You break away from his mouth to breathe the word “fuck” against his cheek, but before you know it, he’s pulling his leg away. You let out a whimper and mourn the loss of contact as deeply as you would a dead friend. He huffs a pleased laugh into your ear, making you shiver and when you realize he’s teasing you, you frown - even though you know he can’t see it.

  
  


“That’s fucked up.” You intend it to sound angry, but it comes out in a soft, pleading whisper. He holds you far enough away that you can see his face, and you can just make out his features in the dim light coming from under the door. 

  
  


When he speaks, it’s with his hand cupping your jaw. “What’s fucked up is the way you’ve been fucking with me for weeks.” His tone is serious, but you can hear a hint of a smirk under it. 

  
  


“I wasn’t sure what I wanted,” you explain through a breathy laugh. 

  
  


He shoves you tighter against the door, and it doesn’t hurt in the slightest, but the strength of it only turns you on further.

  
  


He leans in and takes your lips against his again. “Don’t lie to me,” he says directly into your mouth as he pulls you away from the door and starts walking you both towards his bed. It’s clumsy because of the state of your sobriety, but when the backs of your knees hit the bed, he pushes you down on it. The slight force of the action elicits a low moan from you.

Ever ready to push him further, you lay back and run your hands down your body, slowing over every curve, and you have to bite your bottom lip at the look on his face. 

There’s an old neon light plugged into the wall in this corner of the room and the dull red catches against the side of his face. The sight of him standing over you - you’re sure you’ve never seen anything like it in your life. He slowly pulls off his necklaces and they make metallic noises as he lets them drop to the hardwood floor. 

  
  


“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you breathe and he cracks a smirk at you. You absolutely can’t help yourself - you sit up and start helping him undo the bottom buttons on his shirt, and as soon as the skin is exposed, your mouth finds it. Wet kisses leave shiny marks along his stomach and across his hips. His hand rakes through your hair, tugging the strands lightly. You nip into the skin and the feeling of his muscles jumping at the touch makes you groan through your teeth. 

Your fingers dance along the hem of his jeans, and without warning, you cup his cock through the fabric with your hand. The denim is a little too thick to feel the exact shape, but you can feel it getting harder as you palm against it. His grip in your hair tightens, maybe involuntarily, as your free hand fumbles with the button and then the zipper. You peel the fabric back and mouth over his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear. 

The little noise that falls out of his open mouth makes you feel instantly wetter, and you try to grind down against the bed for some reprieve, but it’s not quite enough to be satisfying. Your fingers are dipped under the band of his briefs, just about to tug them down when he gently shoves you back again. 

Your expression, eyes wide with shock, earns you a deep laugh from him. He pushes you up until you’re both fully on the bed and then crawls half over you, his hair falling around your face like a curtain. 

You reach up and run your fingers through it, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp. He dips down and kisses you again, but this time, he means business. He’s got his tongue in your mouth almost instantly, and you lick against it, tasting him. He tastes like sweet alcohol, but you lose focus the second you feel his grip on your knee. 

He starts to move his hand up your leg, painfully slow. When he gets to the hem of your little dress, he slides it up. His fingers press into the skin of your thigh, lightly at first, but then deep enough that you pray they leave bruises. You gasp against his lips, so he pulls away and leans in to nip at the skin on your neck. 

By the time his fingers catch against your panties, you’re feeling starved for the touch. He’s not giving you any pressure - any friction. It’s feather-light, but when he brushes over your clit, your hips buck into his hand without your permission. 

  
  


“Sit still,” he instructs, and it’s so sexy that it makes your eyes roll back. When his fingertips press against you again you have to press your hips flat to the bed to keep them from moving. Goosebumps rise over your limbs as he pulls your panties to the side and you feel his fingers toy along your skin before they pause. 

  
  


The look on his face is a little alarming. His brow is furrowed and the area around his lips is all red from the friction against your neck. His voice is already a little gravelly from want, so his voice comes out deep. “You are so fucking wet.”

You purse your lips together and bury your head into his shoulder. You’re way past feeling embarrassed, but you absolutely cannot handle him looking at you like that. The obscene whine you let out would be a little too loud if it wasn’t muffled against his hair, but you can’t stop it as his finger drags over your folds. When it dips into you, you can feel just how truly wet you are - you let him work it into you and love every movement. At that moment, you decide that his fingers are your very favorite thing about him.

You completely forget where and who you are until you hear how ragged his breathing is getting. He moves to delve in to the last knuckle, but as his body shifts, you can feel the length of him against your hip. 

  
  


“Jake,” you whisper, past the point of caring if you’re begging. “Please.”

  
  
  


He must be able to hear the desperation in your voice because he sits up and pulls you along with him, your arms tight around his neck. He holds your hair to the side as he undoes the zipper on your dress, and lets you shrug out of the garment. It gets set aside with care before his hand is cupping your breast, thumbing across the nipple. They’ve always been sensitive, so when he leans in to suck one into his mouth, you give a high whine from the back of your throat. Your fingers thread into his hair as his tongue circles around it. You’re thankful that he doesn’t waste too much time on them, but you can tell that he wants to. You make a note that if you ever get another chance at this with him, you’ll try to be patient enough to let him. 

  
  


He slides your panties down and onto the floor before he starts fumbling with his pants. The denim is so tight that he has to work a little to get them off, and it doesn’t help that his hands seem to be visibly shaking a little. You give a half-hearted laugh at the struggle. 

You are struck completely breathless, however, when he slides his briefs down and his hard cock is suddenly right there. At that moment, you decide that his fingers are no longer your favorite thing about him.

When he catches you eyeing it, he grips it and he gives it a couple of slow strokes, making a show of it for you. The fact that the sight makes your mouth water is fleetingly concerning to you, but you add another thing to your “next time list”.

You’re more than ready as he parts your legs and situates himself between them. Leaning over you, he presses his lips against yours and as he slides in, he swallows the shaky breath that you let out. 

He pauses for a moment after he’s in to the hilt, giving you a chance to adjust to it. He seems to be fighting the urge to move, and you think the sentiment is sweet. So sweet, in fact, that you feel slight butterflies, their wings beating against the inside of your stomach. But you have never been so turned on in your life, and you want this. 

You grip his hair, maybe a bit too tightly and look directly into his eyes. “Fuck me,” you demand through clenched teeth. The proud feeling you get from the way his breath catches will live in your head forever if you have any say about it.

He grips your thigh and hitches one of your legs over his hip before he starts thrusting into you. It feels so good that you can’t even make a noise; your lips just part as your chest tightens. His fingers have done such a good job at laying the groundwork that you feel like you’re already peering over the edge. You’re wet enough that just him thrusting in and out of you is enough friction on your clit and it feels like absolute heaven. 

He’s undeniably handsome under normal circumstances but he’s so much hotter in this moment than you ever could have expected. You can’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along his clenched jaw and his pulse races under your touch as he picks up a rhythm. You have to close your eyes because seeing his face like this is too much. 

You can feel him breathing hard against your cheek, and the space between you is so hot that you’re starting to sweat. You drag your nails down his back and he lets out a low hum between pursed lips. You try to imagine the red lines your fingers leave in their wake but he’s fucking you so good that all of your thoughts feel like they’re melting away before you can realize them. 

  
  


“Fuck, Jake,” you whisper against his lips and he desperately kisses you, like he’s afraid that the sound of your voice is going to send him over the edge. 

He shimmies up until his hips are flush against you and when he thrusts in again you have to cover your own mouth to keep yourself from crying out. The slight change to the position has him in you so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with every stroke. You’re so wet that you can feel it dripping and that thought alone makes you bite against your palm.

You can tell that he’s getting closer as his rhythm slowly starts to fall apart. He leans back and places one hand on your hip for leverage as the other starts rubbing firm circles into your clit. 

A string of expletives fall out of your open mouth into your palm, and you rock your hips into his touch, desperate for more of the hot feeling building in you. You don’t have to tell him that you’re going to come - you’re sure he can tell when your eyes roll back. As a last coherent thought, you recall something about him playing guitar, and you think that's maybe why he’s so dexterous - his fingers working so precisely against your clit. 

Before you can overthink it, you rip his hand from your hip and pull it up to your face. There’s a wild look in his eyes as you suck his forefinger and middle finger into your mouth. His jaw clenches tight as he starts to work them past your lips in time with his hips. He pushes them in just far enough that you can feel your throat threatening to gag.

Between his touch on your clit, his fingers in your mouth, and his cock sliding into you, the sensation overload sends you over the edge. Your eyes roll back and you can feel yourself clench around him as you come. 

He fucks you through it, slowing until his thumb is just brushing over you and patiently switching to long, deep thrusts. You hadn’t realized that you’d closed your eyes until you open them again. You can tell he’s so close to coming that he looks pained, and your hazy mind takes a split second to appreciate how insistent he’s been on your orgasm. He slowly pulls his fingers from your mouth, and you make sure to tease your tongue along them as he does. 

  
  
  


“Come on,” you say, your voice a bit fucked out. “Come for me.”

  
  
  


“Fuck,” he breathes, but he doesn’t wait for you to ask again. He leans over you, hands on either side of your head and starts fucking you in earnest. The rubbing against your clit is beyond intense post orgasm and you can’t hold back a whine. He feels incredible inside of you, and the sound of his jagged panting is something you never want to forget for the rest of your life.

He’s shaking as he pulls out of you and slides his cock through a tight fist a few times. He comes across your stomach with a low growl through clenched teeth and strokes himself for a moment longer.

You’re both panting as you come down from the high and you’re drunk enough that when you stare into his eyes, you don’t feel embarrassed. Your fingers reach up to tuck his sweat-damp hair behind his ear. Smiling down at you, he huffs a laugh. 

He fishes a t-shirt off of the floor and gently wipes his come off of your stomach, pecking a kiss against your cheekbone as a consolation. You try not to feel too sentimental about the gesture.

He pulls on a pair of loose shorts across the room and you watch intently as the dim, red light catches the sheen of sweat across his back muscles.

  
  
  


“Do you want me to go to the couch?” you ask gingerly as you sit up and pull his sheet across your bare chest. 

  
  
  


He turns and gives you a look that’s near mortified. “What? Do you want to?”

  
  


You shake your head. “No, I just-” You trail off as you reach for your panties and slip them back on. “Didn’t know what the boundaries were.”

  
  


He laughs at you, low and under his breath as he thrusts one of his clean t-shirts at you, and you slip it on gratefully. “Don’t you tire yourself out worrying so much?”

  
  


You offer him a smile and a shrug.

  
  


He crawls back into bed and pulls you down next to him. You’re not sure whether or not you’ll regret it in the morning, but you lay your head on his bare chest and press a kiss into the skin. He rubs his hand across your upper shoulders and wriggles until you’re flush against his side. You’re drunk and exhausted, and still coming down from an immense high, so you’re not sure if you’re dreaming it or not, but the last thing you seem to remember is him nuzzling his nose into your hair.


	4. Chapter 4

_“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.”_

_—_ Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “[How to Grow the Brightest Geranium](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.breakwaterreview.com%2Fsingle-post%2F2016%2F08%2F26%2FMarcelo-Hernandez-Castillo&t=MGVjYmM2NGVjOTEyZDkyMzgxMzVhODU1MjAzNGNhYzkyMzA5MjAyMSxBb0hQUmZwRQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Ay5_af3k9CEpTAAyIJmS6ag&p=https%3A%2F%2Fcloudbeam.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190832967553%2Ffleurishes-i-am-not-ashamed-the-story-goes-i&m=1),” published in Breakwater Review

The morning sunlight shines in through thin slats in the blinds, and as it hits your eyes, they blink open on reflex. You bury your head deeper into the pillow, nuzzling your nose against it. The smell of cologne and smoke forces the realization that your face isn’t pressed into fabric at all, but rather Jake’s chest. 

You had slept so deeply that you had forgotten where you were. You stare down into his tan skin as images of last night flash behind your eyes. You consider whether or not you should get up and head down to the couch, in case Lucy is coherent enough to look for you. Does Jake want you to go? How long is customary to stay in bed with someone like him? You lift your head up to look at him, but the second you do, his hand is in your hair, pressing you gently back down.

  
  


“You’re thinking too hard.” His voice is still raspy from sleep. 

  
  


“How do you know?” you whisper into his skin as his fingers rub against your scalp.

  
  


“I just do.” A smile is evident in his tone.

  
  


You lay there like that for a few more minutes, and this time when you go to sit up on your elbows, he lets you. You meet his eyes and wish you hadn’t. You briefly think it should be criminal to look so good the morning after. And hungover. 

There’s a dull ache in the back of your head as you watch him push his hair away from his face. 

  
  


“I don’t want to have to move you, but I really need to pee,” he informs apologetically. You smile at him and roll to the side. Trying to stretch the sleep out of your muscles, you watch him as he climbs out of bed and shuts the door quietly behind him. 

There isn’t any commotion through the house yet, so you figure it’s okay to take your time waking up. You force your sore muscles to get you to the edge of the bed, taking it slow and trying to push back the throbbing in your head. 

  
  


Your dress is hanging over the back of a desk chair, and you go to reach for it, but your eyes get distracted. There’s an open drawer on his dresser, and you peer inside to find piles of his jewelry - bracelets, rings, and more necklaces than you could count. You’re reminded of a dragon hoarding its treasure and you laugh lightly to yourself. You think that picking through it would be a bit of an invasion, so you opt for busying your hands with your dress. You’ve just pulled off the shirt that he loaned you when Jake slips back into the room. 

Out of habit, you clutch the dress over your bare chest and he laughs at you incredulously.

  
  


“Isn’t it kind of late for that?” he teases as he shuts the door behind him.

  
  


You roll your eyes, but can’t stop the traitorous giggle that escapes you. 

  
  


The tiny amount of energy that slipping your dress back on consumes makes your brain throb again. Like he can read your mind, Jake extends a couple of ibuprofen towards you in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other. You’re briefly annoyed by the way your heart picks up, but the gesture is just so soft that you can’t help but...swoon? Is that the right word? You think it is, but it reminds you too much of a Disney movie, so you evict the thought from your brain.

You take both of the pills, proceed to chug half of the bottle of water, and then say a silent prayer that it helps. 

  
  


Jake is picking through his dresser when you tap on his shoulder. 

  
  


“You want this?” you ask, and hold up the t-shirt you’d just slept in. He smirks back at you and slips it on wordlessly. Your eyes dance around his room for a moment longer as he rolls on deodorant. The room immediately smells like a man. 

  
  


You eye a row of guitars along the far wall of his room, in varying states of wear. As you’re dipping down to the hardwood to pick up the pair of heels you’d shed the night before, you say, “Those are beautiful.” 

  
  


He’s smiling like you’ve complimented his children when you look back up at him. It’s so endearing that you have to look away again for fear you’ll do something stupid.

  
  


“Wanna find something to eat?” he offers as he opens the bedroom door. 

  
  


“Mhm, I want pancakes and eggs, bacon, sausage, coffee, and toast,” you list, giving him a teasing smile as you pass him. “And I want it homemade and fed to me by hand.” 

  
  


He gives you a faux scowl. “Bacon  _ and _ sausage, huh? Too rich for my blood.” 

  
  
  
  


By the time Lucy finally emerges down the stairs, you’re on the living room couch, unceremoniously munching a piece of peanut butter covered toast. Sam, beside you, has a mug in his hands that’s more sugar and cream than coffee. He spots her first and laughs. She looks  _ rough  _ and you briefly note that you’ve finally gotten to see her truly disheveled, and all it took was a whole bottle of birthday cake vodka. 

  
  


“Shut up,” she whines at him, but it only makes him laugh harder. She reaches a hand up to rake through her wild hair, looking like she’s not sure if she’s going to live.

  
  


“I’ll take pity on you. Can I get you something?” you ask, setting your plate on the coffee table. 

  
  


“Bless you,” she says and nods at you. You follow her wordlessly to the kitchen. Jake is already in there, stirring some cream into a cup of coffee, and his eyes widen when he sees her. You force back a laugh as you shake your head at him, but he gives you a look that tells you he’s smart enough to not say anything about the state of her. 

You pull out the largest glass you can find from the cabinet and fill it with water.

As she drinks it down, you rub her back.

  
  


“Did you have a good time?” you ask and she nods. 

  
  


“Amazing,” she replies, and you can hear Josh plopping down on the couch. When you get back into the living room, he’s eating the other piece of your toast and you shoot him a glare. 

  
  


“Oh, was this yours?” He feigns innocence, but his smile gives him away. 

  
  


“You know it was, you  _ vulture _ .” You don’t have the energy yet to be truly upset about it though, not to mention that all the moving around has really zapped your appetite, so you help Lucy get situated next to him. It’s a tight fit, but Sam doesn’t look bothered by being squished into the armrest. 

Jake sits on the free chair, and after a quick, worried deliberation, you decide it’s okay to sit next to him on the arm of it. 

It’s quiet, but not uncomfortably so, as you all try to recover. Light conversation helps fill you in on other people's perspective of last night’s goings-on, and you’re able to conclude that the party was a success. 

You take Lucy back to your house in the mid-afternoon and cook her a greasy dinner that you both agree is just what the doctor ordered. You take turns in the shower, and for the rest of the day and night, you cuddle up in your bed, laptop between the two of you and binge-watch Broad City. 

As you’re both tucked in, lights off, she sighs pleasantly. 

  
  


“Thank you so much for making my birthday so perfect,” she says genuinely. “What was your favorite part?” 

  
  


You close your eyes and frown into the darkness. What pops into your head is an image of Jake leaning over you, his hair brushing your face, and you feel a pang of guilt wash over you. 

  
  


“I think, just seeing you so carefree,” you reply, and it isn’t entirely a lie. “You deserve it.” 

  
  


She hums happily back at you. “I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.”

  
  


You’re exhausted, both physically and mentally, but she falls asleep well before you. The minutes tick by as you stare at the dark ceiling and think about her question. You know that you’re in too deep to ever fill her in now; if you tried, you’d have to explain why you didn’t just tell her about that first night with him on the patio. The truth is that you have no clue why the idea of telling anyone makes your stomach churn. 

You think about shaking her awake and just coming clean with it in a moment of panic, but you don’t. You lay there and try to calm yourself down. 

It’s okay to keep this to yourself, right? It’s okay to just want this to be a thing only you know about? You think so, but you can’t tell if you’re being selfish. 

Just before you drift off, you realize - with slight horror - that your favorite part wasn’t actually the sex. The sex was absolutely incredible, of course. But what really made the experience perfect was the few short minutes with him after waking up. 

  
  
  


+++

  
  
  


The days draw nearer to Lucy’s impending trip, and it’s all she can talk about. For her birthday present, you take her to the city for a shopping trip - just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t think about boyfriends, work, or any other problem for that matter. By the time you’re ready to leave, the entirety of her back seat is covered in shopping bags. You had tried to remind her that she could only pack a couple of luggage bags to take to Europe, but it was no use. 

On the morning of the day she’s set to leave, you’re at her apartment helping her get her things together. Her parents are set to pick her up at 2 pm, but until then, you mostly mess around while she tucks things neatly into her bags. Her organizational skills are shocking to even you, and you try to take notes, but you’re completely lost as she tries to show you the optimal fold. 

When her parents text that they’re on their way over, she zips up her luggage bag and you give her a sad smile. 

  
  


“I hope you have an amazing time. Take lots of pictures for me, and bring me back something cute,” you request.

  
  


“I promise I will,” she assures, and you’re shocked when she takes your hands in hers. Her expression is sheepish as she continues “Don’t be mad.” 

  
  


You frown at her. “Mad at what?” 

  
  


“I didn’t want you to be lonely while I’m gone, so I set up a playdate for you at Josh’s house tomorrow night.”

  
  


Your face scrunches up into a look of horror. You aren’t sure you heard her right - or maybe you’re hoping you hadn’t. “A what?!” 

  
  


She laughs at you and pats your shoulder. “Just a movie night!” she assures. “The boys will keep you company.”

  
  


You truly do not know what to say, so you just stare at her. She’s giving you that smile she reserves only for when she really wants something, so you say, “Okay.”

  
  


“Perfect,” she quips, sounding all too proud of herself. You help her get her bags down the stairs, and from there, her parents get them to the car. You share a warm moment with her parents, promising to catch up soon before Lucy pulls you into a tight hug.

  
  


“Take care of yourself while I’m gone.”

  
  


“I hate you,” you reply into her blonde curls, but you don’t mean it. “And you’re the one that’s literally flying to another country, so  _ you _ take care of  _ yourself _ .” 

  
  


She giggles at you and waves you off, but the second she’s in the car, you pull your phone out. You hope the annoyance you feel comes across clearly in the message you send.

  
  


_ I don’t really have to come over to your house right? _

  
  
  


**Josh K 2:03 pm**

_ she told me i might have to come to your house and pick u up, so i think yes _

  
  
  


You scoff and roll your eyes. 

_ Do not - I repeat - DO NOT come to my house to get me. I will come to you.  _

  
  
  


**Josh K 2:05 pm**

_ :)  _

  
  
  
  


You frown at you down at your phone suspiciously. 

_ Repeat back to me what I just said so I know you understand. _

  
  
  


**Josh K 2:08 pm**

_ no _

  
  


+++

  
  


When you had gotten down to your car the next night, the check engine light had popped on, and you had groaned and rested your chin on the steering wheel. Your car is old and junky, but your parents had presented it to you on your seventeenth birthday and you were sentimental. You had toyed with the idea of just not showing up, but you were one hundred percent positive that Josh would make good on his threat, and you didn’t want him anywhere near your house. You had never had him over before, and you had suddenly become scared that he was like a vampire, and once he was invited in, he’d never leave. You had been forced to take an Uber over, but the small fare was more than worth it for the peace of mind. 

It is 6:30 when you arrive outside the Kiszka house and thank the driver before getting out. 

  
  


You can see Sam trot up to the door through the window, and he opens it with a flourishing bow. 

“Welcome,” he says.

  
  


You try to be annoyed, but you know it’s not his fault, so you crack a smile. “Thank you,” you reply. “Are you going to take my coat too?”

  
  
  


“Sure, whatever you want.” He gives you a smile that reminds you of a golden retriever, but you wave him off, hanging your jacket on a hook by the door.

  
  
  


“Is that her?” Josh calls from the kitchen. “Finally?”

  
  
  


“Yah,” Sam replies absently, looking down at his phone.

  
  
  


“What exactly is going on here?” you ask as Josh pops around the corner with a mixing bowl full of popcorn. 

  
  


“This would have been hot if you’d showed up earlier,” he says, ignoring your question and thrusting the half-empty bowl toward you. You take it and frown at him as he digs a handful out for himself. 

  
  


“Okay,” you say, trying to keep a calm tone and be patient with him. He gives you a smile as he crunches on his popcorn that gives you the impression that he loves how effectively he’s pushing your buttons, but you continue anyway. “First of all, you did not designate a time for me to show up. I’m not sure why you would have made the popcorn  _ before _ I got here.”

  
  


“Sam did,” Josh replies with a shrug.

  
  


Sam gives you a single nod in recognition, happy to take credit for the simple task. He has splayed himself out in the recliner, legs hanging over the armrest. He does not look apologetic.

  
  


“Second of all,” you continue. “I did not want to come to...whatever this is, so you’re lucky I showed up at all.”

  
  


Josh laughs at you, and it’s so infectious that you can’t suppress a smile. “Hey, not that I don’t enjoy your presence, but this certainly isn’t for my benefit. Lucy demanded that we keep you company, so we are keeping you company.”

  
  


You can hear the back door open, and a moment later, Jake joins the three of you in the living room. He’s rubbing his hands together like they’re chilled, and you conclude that he must have just finished a cigarette. He looks incredible as always, but he is considerably more dressed down for this occasion, not that you expected him to wear leather to watch a movie.

  
  


“See, we’re all here now. Let’s do this,” Josh insists and claps his hands together. 

  
  


You give a defeated sigh, but place the popcorn bowl in Sam’s lap and sit yourself in the middle of the couch. 

You wish you could say that you don’t find it endearing that they had picked a horror movie for you, but you can’t. Or maybe the horror movie is because it’s nearly Halloween? You guess you aren’t sure, but you decide you’re going to pretend that it’s well thought out. You are confused and still slightly annoyed by the whole ordeal, but it mostly melts away as the movie plays on. There is plenty of guts and gore, which is a guilty pleasure of yours, so you try to focus on that rather than thinking about how close Jake is to you on the couch. 

It works somewhat. You have to resist the urge to press your leg against his multiple times, but you don’t look over at him even once throughout the movie, so you count it a net win. 

  
  


During the end credits, Sam reaches up and flicks the lamp back on. “Danny is coming over with pizza,” he says to no one in particular, eyes on his phone. 

  
  


Josh scoffs. “He’s just missed the whole movie.”

  
  


Sam shrugs as best he can in his odd position. “Let’s watch it again?”

  
  


“No,” Josh declines flatly.

  
  


“But he’s bringing pizza,” Sam protests, but he’s cut off from any more as Jake speaks.

  
  


“We could just watch another one when he gets here,” he suggests and then looks toward you for your opinion. “If you’ve got the time for that?”

  
  


You nod. “I’m already here,” you agree, eyes lingering along his face, taking it in as a reward for yourself for behaving through a whole movie. 

  
  


Josh sighs, and you huff at him as he puts his legs over yours and Jake’s. “Fine. Tell him he’d better bring a sausage one.”

  
  


Sam scowls over at him. You think it’s meant to be mean, but he just looks like a cranky puppy. “You’ll get what you’re given and like it.”

  
  


With a smirk, Josh rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. You consider dumping his legs off of yours but decide against it for two reasons - because he’s warm and because the new position has you squished into Jake’s side and it’s nice. You struggle to think of a time you’ve been comfier and you wriggle until you’re even more smushed in between them. 

  
  


Danny shows up not long after that with four pizza boxes in his arms and a huge smile that says “ _ i’m just happy to be here _ ”. He sets the food down on the coffee table and sits himself on the floor between Sam’s legs, looking like there’s no place he’d rather be.

You had thought that four pizzas would be overkill, but you are proven to be laughably wrong as the boys devour every box, slice by slice. You are proud to say that you contribute by packing away two slices in total. 

You all seem to be paying only half attention to the second movie they put on, opting instead for talking over it about anything and everything. It’s so warm and cozy in this spot that - multiple times - you find yourself dozing in and out. The issue is made worse by your full belly and the way that Jake happily supports your weight as you subtly lean into him.

The time slips away, and before you know it, it’s nearly 11. Sam has fallen asleep across the chair and Danny’s head is rested against him. He looks tired too, and you doubt the chance of anyone successfully waking Sam to move somewhere else, so you think the couch will probably be Danny’s home for the night. 

  
  


“I should get going,” you say and Josh lifts his legs off your lap in response. 

  
  


“You’ll drive safe right?” he asks. He’s such a shit all the time, but it makes you feel warm and fuzzy to hear him accidentally care about someone out loud. Other than Lucy. You think he’d take a bullet for Lucy. 

  
  


“I won’t have to, my car’s in the shop,” you assure. You’re sure it’s too late at night for Uber in such a small town, so you pull up your mom’s contact with the intent to message her. 

  
  


You can see Jake frowning at you from the corner of your eye. “You didn’t drive?” 

  
  


You shake your head at him. “No, but it’s okay. I’ll get a ride from my parents.”

  
  


“Don’t be stupid,” Josh scolds, pushing your phone out of your grasp and onto the blanket. You shoot him a glare. “Jake will take you home.”

  
  


Your stomach flips, and it takes every shred of your willpower to not grimace at him. 

  
  


“No, it’s really-”

  
  


Josh cuts you off. “I would do it myself, but I don’t want to.”

  
  


You roll your eyes at him. “I would rather walk home than sit alone in a car with you anyway, which is why I paid for an Uber over here rather than letting you come and get me.”

  
  


The fake cruelness of your words forces a surprised laugh from Jake next to you. Josh feigns shock, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m hurt.” 

  
  


“I wish that were true, but I’m not convinced you have human feelings,” you say with a sweet smile. He mirrors it back at you.

  
  


Jake nudges your side and asks if you’re ready to go. You nod at him and say goodbye to Danny as you fold up the blanket you had been using. 

You give Josh a hug despite your earlier jesting and thank him for everything. Both of you are fully aware that you had enjoyed yourself after all, though you would rather cut your fingers off than admit it to Lucy.

Jake insists on starting his car early, so when you climb into the passenger side, it’s already warm. You’re grateful as you warm your fingers above the vents.

He eyes you and then digs into his jacket pocket, producing a warm pair of gloves. You give him a surprised smile and tug them on. It’s a clear night, and as he starts to drive, you can see the stars from your window. 

  
  
  


“I haven’t gotten my winter gear out yet,” you explain thankfully. “It’s not even quite Halloween. I mean, how am I supposed to wear a slutty costume in this weather?”

  
  
  


He laughs at you, and the low sound makes you giddy. “Stay inside?”

  
  
  


“But then who would see it?” you scoff.

  
  
  


He shoots you a smirk. 

  
  


Oh. Right. 

  
  


You feel your face flushing, but you hope that the cold weather is a good enough cover. You try to act normal as you think it over. Is he flirting with you? He usually says stuff like that, so he’s probably not, right? But what if he is? You have a terrible track record for making a move on him when you’re sober. 

You cross one leg over the other absently. 

You chance a glance to the side and see that he’s wearing a coy smile, watching the road. You’re positive he knows exactly what’s running through your head and you let out a shaky breath that causes him to look at you. 

His eyebrows raise expectantly as you hold his gaze. You realize that if you don’t do something now, you’re likely to make him think that you’re either not interested, or you’re a coward, and neither is a favorable outcome. You remember him telling you to stop worrying so much. You remember the way he said it - strangely sincere.

  
  


Timid at first, you lay your hand on his thigh, reminiscent of the last time you two were together in his car. Except this time, when your fingers pop the button on his jeans, he doesn’t move to stop you. You unbuckle your seat belt and move to kneel on the bench seat, and as soon as he catches on to what you’re doing, you can see his fingers tighten on the steering wheel. 

  
  


“Jesus,” he says under his breath. 

  
  


His breathing hitches as you rub your palm against his cock through the fabric of his briefs and his hand grips your shoulder gently, stopping you from moving. You frown up at him through your eyelashes.

  
  


“Don’t look at me like that,” he half-pleads. “I’m not asking you to  _ stop _ , I’m asking you to  _ wait _ .” 

You huff a breathless laugh at him, your hand frozen in his lap. His cock is starting to harden under your touch and you can’t stop your fingers from playing along the length of it. There isn’t really a good spot for him to pull over, but it’s late and you haven’t seen another car on the road yet, so you don’t think it matters. He throws it into park with a slight haste, and you take that moment to unzip his jacket and let him shrug it off. He’s looking at you like he’s not quite sure if you’re real or not, and you can’t say you really blame him. 

As you tug down the elastic band of his briefs and take him in your hand, you hold his gaze with intensity. The circles you rub over the head with your thumb makes his eyes flutter pleasantly. You start to stoke him with a light touch at first, mostly just mocking the action. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to watch your face or your hand, his eyes darting back and forth. You figure you’ll help him out. 

You dip your head to his lap and bring your face inches away from the head of his cock. As you stroke it with a bit more force, you tease the skin with just the warmth of your breath. You can tell that he also can’t decide where he wants to put his hand. One rests on the high point of the steering wheel, and the other is just barely touching your back. 

You figure you’ll help him out with that too. 

You part your lips and swallow him down as far as you can. He must have been expecting you to tease him longer, and you had been intending to, but this is worth it for the shock value alone. 

  
  


“ _ Jesus _ ,” he says again, but this time in a guttural way. His hand finds its way to your hair as his head tips back against the headrest. 

The reaction is so satisfying that you smirk to yourself around his cock. You ease back then, trying to assure that he’ll never be able to predict your next move. 

Your lips wrap around just the head and massage it with your tongue, slow and drawn out as your grip tightens around the base. With the intention to give him an optimal show, you tilt your head more to the side and find that the new position has the added benefit of being able to watch his face.

As you focus on sucking just the head, he looks down at you and bites his lip. It’s so indescribably sexy that it makes your breathing stutter. 

Blowing him is everything you had hoped for. You had thought about it - and tried to - the first time you hooked up with him, but you’re pleased to find that this is one of those “good things worth waiting” for that people are always going on about. 

Dipping in again, you take the whole length of him in your mouth with light suction. He hums from the back of his throat, his fingers flexing through your hair. When you look up at him again, his jaw is clenched tight.

He tugs your head up by the hair and you whine because the slight pang of pain feels so good. He brings your face close to his and smirks at the sight of your swollen lips. His eyes are intense and powerful - he’s a completely different Jake from the soft boy you were just cuddling next to on the couch. You’re not sure if he’s going to kiss you until he’s guiding your head back down into his lap.

He’s a little more forceful with you this time, pushing you down until his cock hits the back of your throat. The moan that you give at the feeling is muffled. He keeps you to a steady rhythm, rolling his hips to meet you halfway. 

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, and he correctly takes that as a sign that you want control back, so his grasp on your hair loosens. 

With fervor, you work at the head with your mouth and your eyes practically roll back at the sharp breath that hisses through his teeth. You hear him curse - just barely above a whisper - and when you look back at him again, he looks like he’s not sure if he’s going to survive this trip. 

You pull out all of the tricks for him. It’s completely silent in the car, save for the noise of the engine and his increasingly ragged breathing. You can tell he’s getting close as his fingers twitch absently against your hair, and the taste of pre-come hits your tongue. 

He seems to be struggling to stop his hips, so you pause and look up at him. He looks almost hurt that you’ve stopped until he realizes what you want him to do. Eyes wild, he starts fucking your mouth. The reflexive urge to gag is tough to suppress, but you manage for the most part. 

  
  


He breathes the word _ fuck _ , soft and desperate-sounding. He lets you have control again, stalling his movements. Your hand quickly works the shaft as you suck at the tip until you can feel his come hitting the roof of your mouth. You stroke him through it, watching his face as he clenches his teeth, jaw tight. 

The sound of his shuddering breath fills the closed space around you. You pull off of him with a slight popping noise from the suction and watch his cock pulse weakly in your hand. 

It takes him a good few moments to collect his thoughts, but in the meantime, he tucks himself away and you lay your head gently across his legs. 

His head is tipped back against the headrest and he’s staring at the ceiling as he speaks. 

  
  


“I’m not complaining - I really want to drive that point home. But do you have a mode somewhere between freaking out and unexpected road head?” he asks with a disbelieving laugh. 

  
  


“I know. I’m sorry.” Your voice is just a bit hoarse. You nuzzle your nose into the fabric of his t-shirt.

  
  


He presses his fingers into your scalp comfortingly. 

  
  


“You make me nervous,” you admit. “I swear to god, I’m not like this with anyone else. I just keep convincing myself that it was just a one-time hookup-”

  
  


You cut yourself off, suddenly aware and embarrassed that you’re oversharing. 

  
  


He laughs at you, but it’s a warm sound. He smiles down at you as he strokes your hair. 

“I enjoy being around you,” he says assuredly, making your stomach flip. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you any other impression.” 

You pick your head up from his lap and lean it onto his shoulder when you get situated next to him. The rest of the way home is quiet save you for giving him directions and you take the time to just enjoy the warmth that he’s giving off. 

When he pulls up in front of your house, you find yourself mourning the fact that you’re about to part ways. The look he gives you as he sets his hand on your knee makes you feel like he knows. 

  
  


“Do you want me to walk you in?” 

  
  


You think about it for a moment, but in the end, you give him a smile and shake your head. “No, that’s okay. Thanks for giving me a ride.”

  
  


He laughs so abruptly that it almost startles you. “I would say it worked out pretty damn well for me,” he says with a cheeky smirk. 

  
  


You roll your eyes at him but grin back as you start to slide towards the passenger door. 

  
  


“Hey, you know you can text me right?” 

  
  


You pause with your hand on the door handle, your heart rate picking up. “Oh,” you say quietly, because, no. You didn’t really know that. “Okay, I will.”

  
  


You go to open the door but pause a second time, a blush forming across your cheeks as the feeling that you’re about to say something stupid settles into your gut. 

  
  


“But probably not right away,” you add. “Because that would be weird, right?”

  
  


Shit, your gut was right; that was a stupid thing to say. You can tell by the way he smiles at you in disbelief for a few seconds before he shakes his head. “Get out of my car,” he says with a laugh.

  
  


You huff a nervous laugh back at him and wish him a good night. 

  
  


When you get up the stairs to your room, you shrug off your coat and let it fall to the floor. 

There’s a certain high you get from doing something that you thought would be really scary but actually turns out to be fun. Like when you ride a rollercoaster and at the end, you get back in line to do it again. As you brush your teeth and stare into the bathroom mirror, you realize that that’s the kind of high you get from being around him. It’s the kind of high that makes you do crazy things, and you briefly wonder if it will ever go away. 

Even though it’s close to midnight, you pick out a shade of blue nail polish and paint your toenails with care in front of your vanity. You want to pretend like you’re not going to think about the fact that you just swallowed his come, but you can’t, so you do. 

When you crawl into bed, you pull the blankets up to your chest and you fall asleep with an oddly proud feeling settling comfortably over you. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it.

Saturday, your lunch break is set for 4 pm. It feels too late for actual lunch but too early for dinner - plus you were planning on making a salad out of that head of lettuce that’s going to get wilty soon, so it’s not an ideal time to eat anything. Instead, you make yourself a coffee (free to you, of course), pull off your apron, and sit in the corner of the cafe. As you sip your drink, you let it warm your body and aimlessly scroll through your phone.

When you spot the notification that you have a text from Jake, your heart skips a beat. As you go to open it, you realize that the nerves you’re feeling aren’t like frantic panic anymore but more like a giddy excitement, and for that, you give yourself a pat on the back. Progress. 

You hadn’t texted him since he had told you that you could - well, you had typed out a message about meeting for lunch at one point, but you got in your own head about it and deleted it all. 

**Jake 3:46 pm**

_So Sam and Danny are going to a party tonight and Josh is going out to the bars with some friends. Do you want to come over?_

Normally on the Saturday before Halloween, you’d be getting drunk with Lucy, but you had been forgetting it was even a holiday for weeks. You smile down at your phone. 

_Sure, I’m done with work at 6. Wanna pick me up?_

**Jake 4:10 pm**

_Definitely_

You shoot him the directions, and by the time you’ve finished closing up, he’s waiting outside. You wish your co-worker a safe and fun night as you lock the door to the shop - one-handed, due to the travel cup in the other. It’s chilly outside, and you haven’t slipped your jacket on yet, so you hastily cross the street to slide into his car. 

“You smell like coffee grounds,” he says instantly.

You grin at him. “Speaking of, I brought this for you. As a thanks for picking me up.”

He takes the cup from you and hums after the first sip. The pleased look he gives you sends a shiver of excitement down your neck.

“Well, I suppose it’s worth it then,” he teases, setting it down safely in the car’s cup holder.

Before you buckle in, you reach behind your back and untie your apron. He watches you slip it over your neck and lay it across your lap with your jacket. 

“Can you swing by my house quick?” you ask. “I’d just like to change.”

He agrees and he lets you fiddle with the radio on the drive between light conversation. For the record, you never do find any music worth listening to.

When he pulls up in front of your house, you go to get out but then pause.

“Do you wanna come in?” 

He looks a bit shocked, but nods in agreement. To be fair, you probably wouldn’t have invited him in if you hadn’t just spent the whole morning tidying up before work. 

He follows you up to your room, and you note how out of place he looks in the pastel colors you surround yourself with. You watch his eyes rake over all your books, the posters and painting prints on your walls and past your bed to the little potted succulents on your window sill. You have to remind yourself to not be self-conscious, but you hadn’t expected how domestic it would feel having him in your home. You briefly wonder if he had felt the same way with you in his room. 

You’re pretty positive that you’re not going to be returning for the night, so you leave him there as you dart into the bathroom to pack. You brush your teeth before tucking your toothbrush and toothpaste into a little cosmetics bag, along with a few makeup wipes for good measure. 

When you return to your room, he’s thumbing through your record collection.

“Going through my stuff?” you ask in a faux scolding tone, but you don’t stop to see his reaction. You pull your hair out of the scrunchie that’s holding it together and thank god that it doesn’t leave behind a weird kink. 

The sound of his boots against the hardwood echoes through the room as he makes his way to your bed and sits on the edge of it. 

“Did I mention that this is a ‘costume only’ event?”

You can hear the smirk he’s wearing, and despite yourself, you can’t deny that you crack a smile. You duck into your closet a little further, just for good measure. 

“I’m regretting inviting you in,” you tease as you pick up the overnight bag and set it on top of your dresser. You pack away a few items from the top drawer as he’s not looking and zip it closed. You gesture for him to follow you as you flick the bedroom light off and head back down the stairs. 

Neither of you speaks much on the ride over, but the silence is anything but uncomfortable. A couple of times you consider reaching over to touch him, but you refrain, even if it means you have to fold your hands in your lap to prevent them from wandering. 

You realize that you’ve never seen the Kiszka house this empty, but even vacated by everyone but you and him, it still manages to feel cozy and inviting. You shrug your jacket off, but he doesn’t let you hang it up yourself. You watch him carefully place it on the coat hook, eyes lingering on the way his fingers flex in the fabric. 

You follow him to the kitchen, and with a surge of confidence from excitement, you perch yourself on the countertop. You have to hop and wriggle a little, but the look he gives you when he turns back around and sees you up there is worth it. 

“You really know how to make yourself at home, huh?” he teases. His eyes follow the movement of your legs as you cross one over the other. 

“Is that okay?” you ask in a tone that’s slightly more subtle than the way you lean back on your elbows, lengthening your figure for him. 

He gives you a smirk. “Carry on,” he allows, then opens the fridge and ducks down to get a better view inside. “Can I make you something to drink?” 

“Yeah, that would be great. Something Halloweenish,” you suggest and watch his smirk turn into a smile. 

You try to watch what he’s mixing on the other side of the fridge, but then decide you want it to be a surprise, so you avert your eyes. 

“What do you have planned for us tonight?” You try to keep your tone casual, but it’s admittedly tough when you’re pretty sure you’re going to end up underneath him again. 

When he turns toward you, he hands over a glass of green liquid and you look at him with delighted surprise. 

“Wow, this _is_ Halloweenish.”

“I’m a people pleaser,” he quips and then grins at you. The way his teeth show sends a flush of heat to your cheeks. “I’m not sure though - I didn’t really have anything planned.”

The drink tastes like yummy blue lemonade, and you take a long sip as he pours himself the same. “We could watch another movie,” you suggest with a shrug.

“Is that just an excuse for you to stare at me again?” 

The humor in his tone helps to numb the embarrassment of his words, but your voice still wavers. “Do I need an excuse?”

He breathes a laugh at you and extends a hand to help you down from the counter, and even though you both know that it’s not necessary, you take it. The living room is warm and there’s a nest of blankets suspiciously laid across the seats. It briefly makes you wonder if this is what he had planned too, but you sit in the middle of the couch all the same. 

He’s flipping through DVDs in the cabinet under the tv as you pull a fluffy blanket over your legs. 

“You like horror movies, right?” he asks and it makes you smile. You try not to feel too special that he remembered. 

“I do,” you confirm. “Lucy and I watch them together all the time.”

He picks one out of the cupboard as he says, “She seems like the last person on earth that would like scary movies.”

“Guts and gore kinda clash with her bubblegum pink lifestyle, huh?” You take a sip of the drink he’s made you. The DVD player swallows the disk and starts playing behind his hum of agreement.

The smell of his shampoo - that warm, minty scent - fills your space as he sits. To your slight displeasure, he leaves a few good inches in between you, but you’re not unconvinced he’s just trying to be a gentleman. 

The preview movie trailers start playing, and you make a clear decision to focus on them. As much as you want to, you try to refrain from scooting closer. 

You do not last long, however. 

By the time the actual movie starts, you’re close enough to press your side against his, and the quiet sigh of contentment he lets out as he tucks you under his arm makes your body feel warm. You nuzzle into him and you note, as Evil Dead starts playing, that you’re sure you’ve never been more comfortable.

Okay well, except maybe the last movie night at the Kiszka house. It was nice to be sandwiched between the boys, but now you have Jake all to yourself. Limitless possibilities. 

And also, the morning after Lucy’s party. How the _hell_ could you forget that? That had to be the most comfortable you’ve ever been - after you were done with the initial freak out of waking up in Jake’s bed, of course. 

Your fingers flex in the blanket as you realize that - either all of your most comfortable moments have involved Jake Kiszka, or you’re just so into him right now that you can’t remember being this comfortable with anyone else. 

That can’t be the case, right? You must have had moments of sheer bliss with your other flings and flames. You must have. 

You can’t remember. 

“Are you okay?” Jake asks, a hint of genuine concern painting the question. Him interrupting your inner monologue makes you jump a bit. “We can change the movie if you want to.”

“No,” you say with slight embarrassment. “I love this movie.”

“You’re just staring at the screen,” he says with a laugh. His finger lifts your hand until the drink in your grasp is pressed to your lips. You obligingly take a sip.

“I’m sorry. It was a long day,” you say because you’re beyond not ready to talk to him about any of this - or anyone else for that matter. Maybe not ever, you think. 

“Uh-huh.” He sounds entirely unconvinced, but he lets you get comfy against him again without any further questions. You slide down a little bit until your head is resting back against the crook of his shoulder, and you’re able to actually pay attention to the movie as you let go of a tension that you didn’t realize you were holding onto.

As the movie plays, you have to suppress a laugh as his body reacts to the jump scares. From his lap, you can feel his pulse pick up, his muscles twitching. It is truly unintentionally charming.

You feel your phone buzz, startling the both of you a bit.

“Sorry,” you say quietly and fish it out of your pocket, just in case it’s important. You’d hate to miss a message from your family because you were busy waiting to get fucked.

It’s a picture of Lucy pointing at the Eiffel Tower in the background and a message attached. 

_Hanging out with my new friend. What are you doing today?_

A frown sets into your features and a sharp pang of guilt makes your stomach churn. 

“Don’t worry about it right now,” he says and plucks your phone from your grasp. He sets it down in front of you on the coffee table, so you have the option of grabbing it again if you really want to, but you don’t. He takes the opportunity to readjust your position, but nothing on Earth can prepare you for when he shifts you half into his lap. This close to him, you catch the sharp scent of his cologne, and it forces a shaky laugh from your chest. Even to you, it sounds nervous, and you silently curse yourself for not being more collected. 

It’s so warm under the blanket that when his hand snakes around your side, it feels cold from having been draped over your shoulder. His touch, even over the cotton of your shirt, feels electric. It’s certainly not an inherently sexual touch, but there’s something about the position that feels protective in a way you’re not used to.

Your breath hitches almost inaudibly as you realize that you want him to touch your skin, maybe slide a hand up your top. You’re grateful that he can’t see your face because the thought of his fingers toying with your nipple makes you bite your lip. The last time you hooked up, he looked so distressed when he had to move on from them. Every memory from that night is fuzzy from the alcohol and adrenaline, but you can still picture what he looked like on top of you.

He moves his hand to rest on your knee and it makes your heart skip a beat. Even though you want to be annoyed that just one touch from someone can feel like fire, you can’t. This is slowly becoming your new normal, and you’ll just have to learn to live with it, you decide. 

When he speaks this time, it’s in a tone that you would use to talk to a timid animal. “Are you freaking out on me?”

“Not this time.” Just to drive the point home, you place your hand on top of his, starting to slide it up your leg. 

When his body language makes a shift, you can tell that he understands, but he pulls his hand out from under yours and threads your fingers through his. The action is so unexpectedly sweet that it makes you lose focus for a second. His tone suggests that he’s amused but you can feel his fingertips press deeper into your side like he’s trying to suppress the urge to move them. “Don’t you want to finish this movie first?”

“You’re really going to make me wait that long?” You mean to sound light and playful, but even to you, it comes off a hair desperate. He hums, feigning consideration.

“I’ll make you wait longer if you keep it up,’ he warns sternly through a smirk you can hear. 

There are few things you know to be absolutely true about your relationship with Jake Kiszka - whatever that relationship may be. Undeniably, one of those things is that he loves to be in control; he’s good at it. You also know that there’s only one thing that’s more satisfying to you than seeing him lose that control, and that’s watching him scramble to regain it. That’s why, after a moment of deliberation, you decide you’re willing to gamble. 

Placing your hand over his, you slide it up your side until it’s brushing the bottom swell of your breast. You can’t see his face, so you have to wait in anticipation for his reaction, but he doesn’t give you one, so you decide to press further - you slide it up a little higher until his hand is cupping it. 

In one, split-second action, he rips his hand away from yours and you breathe in a shocked gasp as his fingers wrap around your throat. The grip is firm but not painful - you wriggle into his lap as a rush of endorphins washes over your body.

His lips press into the hair behind your ear. The hand he has on your knee pulls your legs apart and you whimper at him, praying it spurs him on further. 

“You can’t just be patient, huh?” His warm breath hitting your ear makes you shiver. Desperate for more, you lean back tighter into him. He doesn’t give you any time to respond, he just releases his hand from your throat and says, “Get on your knees.”

Obligingly, you scramble off of him, letting the blanket fall to the floor. The rug isn’t uncomfortable to kneel on - not the way it would be on the hardwood, so you’re thankful for that. 

When he pulls his cock from his jeans, you lean in and happily take it into your mouth. It’s hard and warm, and you instantly swallow it down to the base. Fingers thread into your hair to press you even further down until the head is brushing the back of your throat. It threatens your gag reflex, but you let him hold you there for a couple of seconds. When he lets you off, you pull back and take a deep recovery breath. A string of saliva between you and him shines like a spider web in the low light, and if you had any sense at all, you’d be embarrassed by how wet that makes you feel. 

The room is filled with quiet slurping sounds as the movie plays on, completely ignored. He pulls your hair off to one side, holding it there to get a better view. When you drag your tongue along it, his eyes flutter and the sight makes your fingers clench in the denim of his jeans. 

He takes hold of your chin, pulling you off of his cock with an obscene popping sound. You can tell he’s trying to be strong and aloof, but he can’t help but swipe his thumb over your bottom lip with a very telling amount of care. 

“Come here,” he says, already pulling you back into his lap, this time facing him.

Your lips turn up into a swollen smile as your fingers wrap around the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head. The look on his face is just as satisfying as you thought it would be when his eyes catch on your bra. You almost hadn’t put it on while you were changing at home, now you’re glad you did. 

It’s a black, lacy deal with sheer cups - doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination. As his eyes shift and half lid with a look you could only call _want_ , you realize that you’ve never had sex sober and not felt self-conscious. Even Mitch looked at you like you were a piece of meat, but despite the hard character Jake is currently playing for you, he still looks at you with such a soft expression. He’s gentler than he’s ever been with you as he cups one of your breasts and rubs his thumb over your nipple under the lace. 

You wrap your fingers into his long hair and guide his head forward until his nose is pressed against your breast bone. He places a soft tender kiss there, letting it linger for a moment before he nips at the skin. You whimper because the pain is delicious, and the sound spurs him on. 

Sitting here like this, you realize that this is the exact place and position that started it all. You eye the doorframe Jake had been lounging against the night of the first party - remember his face when Mitch had pulled you onto his lap. 

You realize that Jake is going through the same thought process when he pulls back from you. He’s left quite the mark for you - angry and red - and this time, you’re proud to have it. He smirks up at you, challenging you to say something, but you don’t. You wish everyone on earth knew that Jake thought you were worthy of his time, but they couldn’t, so this would be a reminder just for you. 

He dips his fingers under the band of your pants, but as he goes to tugs them down, you object.

“Wait,” you laugh. “This is your family couch. You watch movies and eat meals on this thing.” 

He smirks at your jesting, and with a rough voice, he says, “You’re right.” 

You gasp and wrap your arms around his neck as he picks you up off the couch and lays you out on the rug. 

Pants discarded, he brings you to the edge by rubbing firm circles against your clit with his fingers over the fabric of your matching panties. 

After you come down, you watch him undress, biting your lip at the sight of his skin that’s glowing with a sheen of sweat. You let him turn you over onto your front, ass presented to him. He has his cock in his hand, giving it light strokes as he pulls the fabric of your panties to the side and dips his fingers into you. It’s the first contact of that kind this time around, and you feel your walls clench around his digits. He doesn’t give you much - only works them into you for a second to a string of expletives from your mouth, before pulling them out. Over your shoulder, you watch him lick his fingers clean, your breath hitching in your lungs.

When he slides his cock into you, you can’t hold back the ridiculous whine that escapes you. You feel him pause for a second like he’s not sure if he’s hurting you, but you press your ass flush against his hips in reassurance. Luckily, he understands, and he hooks his fingers around your hips as he slowly works out a rhythm. You’re so wet that you can feel it dripping down your legs, and you pray it doesn’t hit the rug - you’re not sure you would survive the embarrassment. 

His fingers lace through your hair, and he uses it to press your face to the floor - you probably shouldn’t find it so hot, but you’re beyond thankful that no one else is around to hear the pathetic whining sounds you’re making as he roughens up his strokes. Fingers dig against the hardwood as you feel yourself starting to near another edge, so quickly after the last. 

“Fuck,” you breathe desperately, but a second later he’s tugging you up until your back is flush with his chest. You frown in mourning at the loss of stimulation.

“You don’t think you’re going to come yet, do you?” he purrs into your ear. He turns you so you’re leaning into the seat of the couch, and the new position makes his next plunge in so deep and delicious that you mewl into the fabric. 

He pulls your hair to one side and nips at the back of your neck like a cat, letting out a low groan into the skin. You can tell he’s really feeling it too as his thrusts start to become shaky and unpredictable. 

He fucks you like that for an indistinguishable amount of time, tugging your hair just rough enough that the pain feels like pleasure. You’re not sure how long the movie has been finished playing, but you don’t notice the absence of its noises until you realize that all you can hear is your combined heavy breathing and the unabashed sound of sex. 

He’s fucking you roughly enough that you can feel your knees starting to carpet burn, but you wouldn’t move for anything in the world at this point. You lay your cheek against the seat of the couch and look back at him. The look on his face makes you wish you could kiss his slightly parted lips, his eyes half-lidded. He looks like he’s so close to release, and you are too. 

“Come in me,” you whisper, but he hears you if the way his eyes widen with a wild look is anything to go by. 

You hold his gaze over your shoulder, watching his breathing pick up as he mouths curse words into nothing. He gives you a wicked-looking, wild smirk and wraps his hand back around your throat. 

You come for the second time with his fingers pressed into your neck and he patiently waits for your orgasm to dull before seeking his own. When he comes, it’s buried inside of you, holding you back against his chest as tightly as he can manage. His guttural groan falls right out into your ear, and this close post-orgasm, the noise makes your eyes roll back.

He keeps you there for a moment, resting his forehead against the back of your shoulder as he catches his breath. Selfishly, you silently wish you could live in this moment forever. The skin to skin contact, mixed with synchronized breathing is making you feel euphoric. Well, that and the incredible sex.

He helps you up, and you have to hang onto him for support for a second as your legs wobble beneath you. He sniggers under his breath, wrapping his arms around your waist until you’re sure you can walk. If you let him hold you a little longer than necessary, no one has to know. 

As you head upstairs and clean up, he heats up a noodle dish from the fridge and you pass that back and forth in the kitchen naked, taking bites and staring at each other wordlessly. There’s a sense of wonder hanging over the room, making you feel rather dreamy. 

When you decide you can’t eat anymore, he makes each of you another drink and you make your way back to the living room. You pull your clothes back on as he does the same before you cuddle back into your original position on the couch. 

“Do you think you can sit still and watch a movie now?” he teases and you smile up at him cheekily. You nod in confirmation and he turns a new film on, letting you put your feet up and get comfy. 

You sip on your drink as the movie plays and before you know it, you’ve dozed off. Or you must have anyway because you wake up to the feeling of him petting through your hair, his chin rested weightlessly on the crown of your head. 

He must be able to tell that you’re awake because he asks, “Are you comfortable?”

You hum a confirmation and nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. 

“Are you ready for bed?” 

You frown in slight confusion, but try to keep your voice level. “Do you want me to stay over?” 

“Of course I do,” Jake assures, sounding a bit disbelieving. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

You’re quiet for a long moment, thinking about how to say what you want to say, and trying to find the confidence to say it. “I guess I just don’t know what this is,” you say like an admission.

He presses his face into your hair and you can feel him smile. “Just assume that I want you around, okay?”

His tone is soft and slightly humored. The breath you let out is long overdue - you’d been holding it in anticipation. “Okay.”

“And for the love of god,” he says, a little more stern. “Get out of your own head.” 

You huff a laugh and turn to look up at him. “Let’s go to bed.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it.

You wake up before Jake the next morning, and you allow yourself ten straight minutes to indulge in watching his face while he sleeps. As cliche as it is, you find comfort in how peaceful he looks. 

As soon as he starts to stir, you pick up your phone and pretend to be scrolling through Instagram. He clears the sleep away from his throat and rubs at his eyes, the morning light shining through his bedroom window and illuminating the bare skin of his chest. 

He hums a good morning, stretching his arms out. 

“I should go before anyone gets home.”

“Sam is going to stay with Danny all weekend, and Josh is probably passed out on someone’s couch if I know him at all,” he says and then smiles at you. “Which I unfortunately do.”

You smile back. “In that case, do you want to take a shower with me?” 

“We could just fuck here so we don’t both slip and die,” he suggests in a teasing tone and you roll your eyes at his unabashed bluntness.

“This is a purely platonic shower,” you explain with a laugh as he squints his eyes at you in an accusatory fashion. You gently push his arm until he rolls out of bed, and as you stand up next to him, his eyes flick down. 

“Oh my god, did I do that to you?” he asks, voice painted with concern. You follow his gaze down to the red spots on your knees, starting to scab over.

You huff a sheepish laugh at him and nod. “It’s okay though, don’t worry about it.” 

He frowns deeply despite your assurance as he takes your hand and leads you a couple of doors down into the bathroom. The house is completely silent as you make your way through it save for the wood creaking beneath your feet, and the sound of the autumn wind hitting against the siding outside.

He shuts the door behind you and reaches for the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. Never one to sleep in too much clothing - especially when you’re sleeping next to someone so warm - that leaves you in just your black panties. His actions are weighted with care as he slides them down your legs, being extra mindful of the raw spots on your knees. 

He leaves you naked as he turns the shower on, and while he’s waiting for the water to heat up, he undresses the rest of the way too. 

The bathroom is filled with natural light, but as the window starts to fog, it starts to dim a bit. He pulls back the shower curtain and gestures for you to go first. You step in and turn the temperature down until the water doesn’t sting your skin. By the time you’ve got it figured out, he’s standing beside you, his phone in his hand. Music starts to play from outside the shower - a speaker, you would guess. 

“Gotta get the mood right,” he explains like it’s obvious when you give him a questioning look.

“Do this often?” you ask, tipping your head back under the spray. 

“Well,” he starts with a nod and then his lips play up into a smirk. “Usually alone.” 

His eyes follow the flow of water as it runs down your body and when he reaches out, your skin prickles in anticipation that he’s about to touch you, but he doesn’t. He grabs the soap from the shelf behind your head and wets it over your shoulder. 

You step aside and then tug him towards you until you’re both partly under the spray, and for the second time in your life, you’re baffled by how good he looks with wet hair. 

You can’t stop yourself from running your fingers through it, heavy with water. He lets you wash his hair with that same shampoo you’ve come to know the exact scent of, and you watch the suds cascade over his chest as he rises it out of his locks. 

As he lathers a bar of soap in his hands, you’re not entirely sure what his intentions are. His eyes are raking over your body, but you specifically remember his stance on shower sex being negative. He holds your questioning gaze as he crouches to his haunches on the shower floor and then runs his soapy hands over your knees. It stings for just a second - not from the soap, but from the touch - but you try not to wince or move, lest you make him worry. 

When he’s happy with how clean your wounds are, he holds his hands out and lets them rinse under the water. You look down at him, suddenly feeling a tad exposed as his eyes rake over your navel and then down. You’re not sure what he’s planning as he grabs one of your legs until he lifts it and wraps it around his shoulder. You can’t stop the shocked gasp as he shamelessly leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. His eyes flick up to you, asking your permission. Your fingers wrap into his hair and you pull him forward into you without thinking. 

You can’t find a shred of smugness on his features as he laps against your clit. He eats you out until you’re biting back strangled noises, your fingers so tight in his hair that you know it must hurt, you’re just not in a position to care. Balance is never an issue - you can see the muscles of his back tense as he effortlessly holds half of your weight, the other half pressed against the shower wall. 

He doesn’t cease until you’re crumbling apart, your lips pursed tightly. It takes you a moment to stop seeing colors and open your eyes, but when you do, he’s standing in front of you, arms wrapped around your waist. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck instinctively, and tense as he rests his forehead against yours. It’s not that you’re uncomfortable with the gesture, it’s just that-

Well, it seems so _romantic_. 

He must be able to feel you tense because he loosens his grip and goes to pull away, but the idea that you made him think you were uncomfortable makes your gut wrench. As softly as you can manage, you catch his lips with yours before he can move too far. 

It’s chaste, but the fact that you can taste yourself on his mouth makes it less so. When you pull him even closer, you can feel his hard cock against your hip, bodies pressed together. With a firm grip, you stroke him off until his fingernails dig into your sides and he’s coming across your stomach, pulling in ragged breaths. 

Wordless as he recovers, you both shamble out of the shower and towel off. You’re not entirely sure why, but you’ve got butterflies in your chest when you meet his eyes while he’s pulling on a t-shirt. He cracks a smile at you, toothy and genuine and offers you a clean shirt as well. You slip it on, forgoing your bra in favor of comfort. 

He’s waiting for you, hand on the doorknob, and lets you slip out into the hallway first. You open your mouth to inquire about food, but you suck in a sharp gasp instead when you see Josh standing at the other end of the hallway. 

His face is buried in his phone, but when he hears you his eyes flick up. He looks as startled as you feel for half a second before his lips curl into the scariest shit-eating grin you’ve ever witnessed. 

“Funny seeing you here,” he teases. You can tell he’s hungover from the dark bags under his eyes. 

“You look terrible,” you say flatly. Jake breathes a laugh behind you, but it doesn’t help your fiery nerves. 

Josh runs a hand through his curls, and proudly replies, “That’s because I drank a whole ass bar last night. What did you two get up to?”

You shoot a glare at him and his knowing tone. You can’t even be entirely angry at him and his stupid, cocky grin, and that’s the most annoying thing you can imagine. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you remark. Perfectly eloquent. 

Josh barks a laugh at you, sharp and alarming. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” 

You frown, perplexed. 

“Come on,” he says, rolling his eyes and then points at Jake behind you. “We share a wall.”

The meaning of his words doesn’t hit you until a moment later and you instantly feel your face go hot. Jake just shrugs at you, giving you an unbothered smile when you look at him. 

“If you knew the whole time, why didn’t you say anything?” you demand, and suddenly you feel your whole body tense. “Does Lucy know?”

Josh cringes back in pain from the way your voice jumps up a few octaves. You can’t help but feel almost a little smug at how he presses a finger against his temple. “No, she doesn’t know anything.”

You let out a breath, and even though you’re beyond embarrassed, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. You can’t help yourself from asking, “Are you sure?”

He nods but frowns in a way that seems a bit judgey for your taste. “Why wouldn’t you just tell her?” 

Jake places his hand on your hip from behind, and you think it’s meant to be comforting, but it somehow makes you feel worse. You don’t have the emotional capacity to give a genuine answer at all right now, so you just shake your head and give a slight shrug. 

“Okay, but she’s going to be back in a couple days. Then what?” Josh asks and you bite your bottom lip, suddenly a little peeved that he’s still talking. You know it’s not his fault at all - all of the points he’s bringing up are completely valid, but your guilt is starting to fill the hallway like water, threatening to suffocate you. It makes your lungs feel tight. “Are you going to just sneak around forever?”

You know it’s going to, but you’re still shocked at how harsh you sound. “I don’t know,” you snap and his eyes pop open wider at your tone. You grit your teeth as a look of hurt splashes across his face, only adding to the list of things you need to grieve. Jake’s fingers tighten into your hip, and when you turn to look at him, the disapproving shape that his lips are turned into makes you feel indescribably small. 

“I’m sorry,” you say to Josh, just above a whisper. “I’m not ready to think about it right now.”

Without a hint of malice, he gives you a smile and you take the briefest of seconds to admire how forgiving the kid really is. He offers you a hand, and when you take it, he gives yours a squeeze. It’s a simple gesture, but it’s one that says more than enough. 

He excuses himself and slips into his room, shutting himself away, presumably, to sleep the hangover away for the remainder of the weekend. 

You can’t bring yourself to look at Jake as you’re collecting your things from his room, but you can feel him looming over you in the doorway. You shove your toothbrush back into your bag, and you’re about to tuck your phone away when you realize you’ve missed two texts from Lucy. 

It’s the sound of him letting out a long breath that forces you to finally meet his eyes. The evidence of disappointment painted across his features makes you feel heavy, so you sit yourself on the edge of his bed. 

You stare at each other for a wordless moment before you’re compelled to speak. 

“I’m sorry,” you offer, folding your hands in your lap and tugging the sleeves of your sweater down over your fingers. 

“For what?” he asks in a disbelieving tone, leaving you confused. You had thought he had been angry at you for snapping at Josh, but now you’re not sure. 

“I just. I need to figure out how to handle this better.” The admission feels like cutting weight loose, and you realize that it’s the first time that you’ve talked to anyone about this. 

He rolls his eyes at you, wiping his hand over his face, leaving behind a smirk. “Are you kidding?”

You frown deeply at him, still feeling a bit prickly. “What do you mean?”

He takes another deep breath and crosses his arms over his chest. The doorway supports his weight with a creak of protest. 

“I know you think that this is your fault, but have you ever stopped to ask yourself why you’re so scared to tell her about this?” 

You’re not sure whether to be grateful or annoyed with his careful tone. You think if it were anyone else, the tone alone would piss you off. You wait for his words to make sense, but no further clarity comes, so you wait for him to elaborate.

“Jesus, okay,” he says, frowning at you. “Why are you so scared to tell her? You’re not doing anything wrong here.”

You open your mouth to speak, but instantly realize you have no immediate response. He’s so patient though; he waits for you in silence as you gather your thoughts. 

“I mean, I should have told her right away.” Your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, so you swallow hard before continuing. “I should have told her immediately after the first party.” 

“Why?” he says simply - direct - but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s upset about something deeper. The frown he’s wearing seems to come from anger now, rather than pity. “Why would you need to tell her that? And tell her what? That you lit my cigarette? That we could have kissed? _Nothing happened_.” 

As much as you wish you weren’t, you’re a soft person, and the sharp sting of hurt rips through your body like a knife. You’re stunned silent, and you can tell the second after it leaves his lips, he regrets it. 

You’ve never felt more stupid in your whole life up to this moment, and your face flushes hot. 

“That certainly isn’t how I remember it.” You stand abruptly, pulling the strap of your bag over your shoulder, hoping to escape before he can see you like this. 

“Move,” you say. The word is meant as a demand, but it comes out slightly strangled as your voice betrays you. As you try to brush your way past him, his hand on the center of your chest pauses you. You think about fighting him on it - and you know that if you did, he’d let you go - but you don’t. Not when you look at him, face inches from his and find a soft, almost apologetic look. 

Your hands are balled up into fists at your side, and you have to work to unfurl them. 

“Please listen to me,” he says, taking your chin in his fingers and forcing you to look at him. Your lips are still turned down into a sneer, but you nod for him to continue. “I’m not saying that it didn’t mean something to me - obviously it does.”

He pushes a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you lean into the touch. 

  
“I just want you to know that you don’t owe her anything.” 

You worry your teeth along your bottom lip, suddenly hyper-aware that you need some quality time to yourself. 

“I should go,” you say, but lean into to peck a kiss against the corner of his mouth. 

The look he gives you makes it clear that he doesn’t want to part ways, but he nods in agreement anyway. 

By the time he’s dropping you off at your front door, you’re exhausted. You’ve gone through so many emotions in a matter of a couple of hours that you’re not sure you have enough energy left to feel anything for the rest of the day. 

“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, and his brow furrows in concern. It’s endearing, but it hits differently than it would any other time. You’re done with being pitied for today, you think.

“Yeah, I think I just need some time.”

After a long pause of his eyes raking over your face, seemingly assessing whether or not you’re telling the truth, he nods in understanding and lets you clamber out of the car. Not another word is spoken between the two of you, which you’re entirely thankful for. 

As soon as you’re inside and you hear his car leaving down the street you press your back against the front door and let your weight slide you down to the hardwood. 

You know you have more emotional labor to do than you’ve ever had in your life, but you let your brain rest. Staring up at the ceiling, you pull your knees up to your chest and rest your chin on them, wincing slightly as you brush the scabs left from last night. 

You’re not sure what time you got home, but it’s nearly dark outside by the time you clamber up off the floor, legs weak from supporting your upper half. Your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten a thing yet, so you pull a cup of yogurt from the fridge and joylessly slurp it down. 

Has it always been this quiet in your house? You’re not sure, but you briefly think about asking your landlord if you can get a cat. Surely, a cat wouldn’t judge you for drinking yogurt like a bowl of soup. 

+++

You hold up in your house for the next couple of days - aside from when you’re at work anyway. Being alone in your room gets boring, so you pick up a couple of extra hours here and there and spend plenty of time in your bathtub, being entirely too contemplative. 

Your parents offer to pay for the part for your car, so you let them, and you’re immensely grateful to have one less thing to worry about when you’re finally able to pick it up from the shop.

Jake seems to be respecting your request for space, even though you secretly wish he’d bother you once or twice. You don’t expect him to though, and he doesn’t, but you wonder frequently if he’s thinking about you as much as you think about him on a daily basis. 

Several times you think about what it would be like if he lived at your place. You could make him pancakes, and watch him practice his music - but more than anything, the idea makes you sad, so you try to repel the thought altogether. 

The night before Lucy is set to return home, you spend about an hour staring at the texts from her you’ve been ignoring. You thought that the guilt would be overwhelming, but it ends up being hard to feel anything about it at all. 

You message her back that you’re excited to see her, and that you’re terribly sorry that you haven’t kept in touch better. You use the cafe as an excuse and pretend that’s what has been occupying your time. 

After waiting for a response for twenty minutes, you bury your phone in the covers on your bed and then make and eat an entire pizza while watching old episodes of The Simpsons. 

You take time to brush your teeth and inspect the little succulents on your window sill and then crawl into bed. Making a mental note to wash the sheets during your next load of laundry, you fish for your phone. When the screen lights up, alerting you that you have a message, your stomach flips. 

You open it in haste, only to find that it’s not from Lucy at all. 

**Jake 11:08 pm**

_Hey, are you up?_

You huff a laugh into the otherwise empty room. That’s the line people usually use for a booty call right? 

_Yeah, I’m up_ , you reply and then snuggle down under the covers. 

**Jake 11:10pm**

_I just want to make sure you’re okay_

You stare at the message until the screen goes black from unuse, and then you press it tight to your chest. Your fingers flick the lamp off on your bedside table without looking before you run them over your lips absently. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out to nobody but yourself. There is no one on earth that knows that you’re in too deep better than you do, but sometimes it hits you harder. Particularly in the middle of the night while you stare up at the black of your ceiling. 

Resisting the urge to tell him to come over is the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life - which is a dramatic thing to think, but you allow yourself this one.

It’s ten minutes after his last reply that you respond with, _I’m okay. I’ll talk to you soon, I promise._

A couple of minutes later you feel the buzz against your chest. 

**Jake 11:25pm**

_Okay_

**Jake 11:26pm**

_Take care of yourself_


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, you receive a message from Lucy, asking you if you want to meet her at her place around noon. You know she’s supposed to fly in around ten am, so you agree and spend the entire time leading up trying to tell yourself it’s going to be okay. 

  
  


She looks fantastic and she gives you a big hug as she lets you in. There are open luggage bags scattered around her bedroom and the whole thing reminds you of a carefully constructed Instagram photo. 

Her long blond hair cascades down her back, ringlets bouncing as she babbles on about her trip. You sit on the edge of her bed and smile genuinely as she relives the whole trip with you through story. 

She’s slowly tucking things away into her dresser as she cranes her head around and asks, “What’s been going on around here?”

  
  


You take a deep breath. Here we go. 

  
  


“Same thing that always goes on around here,” you reply with a laugh. “A whole lot of nothing.”

  
  


She hums in agreement. “Yeah, I should have expected as much - it’s insanely boring here. Have you been okay? I was worried about you while I was gone.”

  
  


You frown as she pulls a long dress from a circular piece of luggage, tag still attached and tucks it into her closet. “Yeah, I’ve just been busy with work. Coworkers have been sick so I’ve been picking up extra hours.”

  
  


“Oh, ew,” she replies and gives you a sympathetic look. “Did Josh keep you company at least?”

  
  


Your eyes threaten to pop open wider, but you force them closed instead and pretend it’s because you’re still peeved that she set up that movie night. “Just that once,  _ thank god _ .”

  
  


Her laugh sounds melodic as it rings through the room, and it brings a smile to your face. 

  
  


“But I guess I really should get used to him, huh?” you add. “Because I can only assume you’ll be having his kids someday.”

  
  


She’s turned away from you but you see her hands pause as she unpacks pairs of earrings into her jewelry box. She hums noncommittally, and you open your mouth to ask her what’s wrong, but she cuts you off. 

  
  


“Did I tell you that I got you something?”

  
  


“No” you reply and fold your hands in your lap, a sinking feeling in your stomach. 

  
  


You close your eyes when she tells you to, and she drops something cold in your hand. Coiled in your palm is a silver necklace, a little paper airplane hanging off the chain. 

Tears prickle at your eyes, but you blink them back and close your fingers around the cold silver.

  
  


“I love it,” you say like it’s a promise, and grin like an idiot when she reaches up and pulls a lock of hair off her chest, revealing a matching little paper plane laying against her milky skin. 

You stand and take her into a tight hug, telling her how glad you are that she’s back, and this time, it’s not a lie. She helps you put it on, her fingers working the clasp delicately. 

When she orders in Chinese food, she gets a box of your favorite too, and you eat it with her on her bed, happily listening to her gush about French cuisine and English weather until it’s dark outside. She offers for you to stay the night, but you decline - you’re not sure you could sleep next to her in good conscience. 

You get home, feeling like the guilt has a tangible weight that’s pressing on your shoulders. You eye yourself with slight pity as you sit in front of your vanity and take your makeup off, thinking through how you actually let yourself sink this deep. 

You know how though. 

You run your fingers over the very last trace of a love bite on your shoulder, and you don’t try to suppress the smile that threatens your lips. 

+++

  
  


You are lucky enough that the next four days straight you are scheduled to be at work. You had dreaded the extra hours when you agreed to them months ago after your boss begged you so she could plan a vacation, but now that the time is here, you’re a bit grateful. Work is a perfect escape from how convoluted your life has become - it’s nearly impossible to think about the web you’ve weaved when you’re racing around with espresso grounds and steamed milk. You even offer to stay a little later the first couple of days, just because the reprieve feels so nice. You really lean into it too. When Lucy texts, you brush her off for the most part, using this newfound excuse to ease the guilt. 

  
  


But on day five, when your work hours have run dry, you’re jostled from your sleep at nine in the morning to the shrill ring of your phone. You blindly reach for it - well more like slap your hand across your nightstand until you feel it and than rip it from the charger. 

  
  


“Hello?” you ask groggily, your voice hoarse from sleep. 

  
  


“Good morning,” Lucy replies on the other end, sounding like she’s been awake for hours. “Will you come on a little road trip with me today?”

  
  


You blink your eyes open and stretch your legs out like you’re trying to grow a couple of inches taller. “Sure, when?”

  
  


Lucy hums. “Well, like right now?” 

  
  


With a groan, you bury your face back into the pillow. “Right now? Where are we going?” 

  
  


“No clear destination! I’ll be over in like twenty minutes,” she says, and then hangs up.

  
  


As much as you want to sleep longer, you can’t help but smile at her. That’s the Lucy you know. 

  
  


You drag yourself out of bed begrudgingly and head to the bathroom. As you’re brushing your teeth, a text comes through, so you wipe your hands of toothpaste and open it. 

After a lot of thought, you had decided to go ahead and inquire about a cat, so you grin as you read the approval from the landlord (so long as another small deposit is made). 

With the spare time that you have left before Lucy arrives, you browse Amazon for cat starter kits and add a couple to your cart to assess further when you return. 

For the first time in your entire friendship with her, Lucy looks tired when she arrives at your house. Well, obviously you’d seen her tired before, but never after she’s left the house for the day - and  _ never _ in public. She’s the most well put together person you’ve ever met, without exaggeration. The last thing you want to do is hurt her feelings though, so you just smile as you open the door and let her step inside. 

  
  


“Good morning,” you say to her and she offers a small smile back. 

  
  


“Are you ready for some adventure?” 

  
  


You nod, with genuine excitement. Even though it’s cold, the sun is shining brightly, so you’re safe with just a sweater rather than a huge coat, and Lucy turns on your favorite collective favorite album after you clamber into her warm car. 

  
  


“Should we get some snacks before we go?” she asks.

  
  


“And coffee.” It comes out as more of a demand than a request, but she knows how you are in the morning, so she just laughs. 

  
  


The gas station is packed when you guys roll in, and it never fails to surprise you how many people are up and moving so early. You watch her pump gas for a few seconds before realizing you can just head inside, so you retreat from the chill.

You pour yourself a large styrofoam cup of coffee and dress it up how to like, and you’re just asking yourself if it’s too early to have candy when you bump your shoulder into someone. 

You turn to apologize, but it’s Jake that’s standing there in the aisle with you, and the smile he’s giving you - like he’s instantly comforted by your presence - makes you feel giddy. The apology you were going to give him is suddenly lost to you, and you have to repress the urge to reach out and pull him close. 

  
  


“Is it too early to eat candy?” you ask, showing him a bag of gummy peach rings. He chuckles at you and shakes his head. 

  
  


“Time is a made-up concept.” 

  
  


You give him a grin and it’s comfortably silent between you two and the otherwise vacant candy aisle for a blissful moment. 

  
  


“Are you doing alright?” he asks, and suddenly there’s no hint of humor in his voice - only sincerity. 

  
  


You give him an assuring nod. You want to apologize for keeping yourself so distant from him - apologize for making him worry, but you can’t because Lucy chooses that moment to round the corner, an apple in one hand and a glass bottle of iced coffee in the other. 

When she looks up and sees Jake, her face adopts a shocked look, and for a second your whole body tenses. She looks like a deer in the headlights. 

  
  


“Hey, Jake,” she greets quietly. He nods back at her, offering a less genuine smile than he’d given you. “We should get going.”

  
  


She’s usually so much more polite with people - always asks how they’re doing and what they’re up to, so her shortness has you understandably worried. 

  
  


“Okay. Well, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you the next time we come over,” you say to Jake, keeping it purposefully formal. 

  
  


“Oh, actually.” Lucy cuts herself off and you watch her stare at the floor. She is silent for a long moment while you wait with bated breath for her to continue. “I broke up with Josh.”

  
  


As soon as the words are out, her eyes start to well up. You can’t help yourself though - the confession is so shocking that you blurt out, “What?! When?”

  
  


Her bottom lip starts to tremble as she holds up a hand. “Excuse me,” she says and hands you her apple and coffee. She’s out the front door before you can utter another word. 

  
  


You and Jake share an equally shocked look, but it doesn’t stop you from asking, “Did you know?”

  
  


He shakes his head vigorously. “I had no idea, I went to breakfast with Sam.”

You glance out to the parking lot and see him sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s car, a straw in his lips as he sips at a slushie. His long legs are propped up on the dash, and his relaxed pose gives you the impression that he isn’t privy either. 

  
  


“We asked if he wanted to come, but...I guess now I know why he declined,” he finishes. His brow furrows suddenly, a sneer finding its way to his lips. “I can’t believe her.” 

  
  


You frown at him and give his shoulder a squeeze. “She must have had a reason.”

  
  


He rolls his eyes at you and your weak defense, but she’s your best friend. What are you supposed to say?

  
  


“I’ll see you soon, okay?” you assure and chance brushing his cheek with your thumb. He gives you a forced smile that is the complete opposite of the one he had given you just minutes ago. The look leaves you feeling heavy. 

You check out at the counter and pay for the gas too, and by the time you crawl back into the car, Lucy is dabbing at her eyes with a tissue from the glovebox. 

  
  


“Lucy, what’s going on?” you ask sternly as you set her items in her lap. 

  
  


She sniffles before she responds. “That’s what this trip was for- I just wanted to get out of town for a while. I had no idea we’d have to run into  _ him _ .”

The tone she's using at the end makes you scowl. “Stop it. It isn’t Jake’s fault.”

  
  


“I know, I’m sorry. I just feel like he’s never liked me very much.”

  
  


The subject is making you more than uncomfortable, so you opt to stare at the dash and shake your head. 

  
  


“Why did you do it, Luce?” 

  
  


Her frown deepens. “I’m not ready to talk about it. Let’s just go park somewhere nice and talk?” 

  
  


She seems to actually be asking your permission, so you nod, but remain uncertain of anything. The place she’s taking you to becomes obvious as you drive down the winding roads and through the trees. There’s a place tucked away in the middle of the woods that people go to sit, but just as you had suspected, it’s completely vacant due to the changing season. 

She pops the lid on her coffee and takes a sip, and you’d follow suit except your stomach hurts now and just the smell makes you feel a little queasy.

  
  


“Okay. Tell me what happened,” you say slowly, tone letting her know that she’s not getting away from it this time. 

  
  


She purses her lips but nods. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but after I got back from Europe, I knew I had to do it.”

  
  


“But  _ why _ ?” 

  
  


She doesn’t say anything for at least a full minute - she just stares out the windshield at the once green scenery, now brown from frost. 

  
  


“Because I didn’t just go on that trip for a vacation,” she says slowly, letting her glass bottle of coffee rest in her lap. “I’m-”

  
  


Evidence of her dwindling composure cuts her off in the form of a breathless sob. 

  
  


“I’m going to be moving there for school. To England, and this trip was so partly so I could tour universities.”

  
  


Stunned and completely silent, all you can do is stare at her until her words really hit you. When it starts to sink in, your fingers start to shake. You fold them together to try and stop it, but you can tell that she saw. 

  
  


“What are you talking about?” you ask at the loudest volume you can muster, but it ends up being just above a whisper. “You’re not leaving.”

  
  


She lets out a long, quavery breath, but it’s obvious that she can’t look you in the eye. “I’ve been wanting to go back to school and my parents offered to send me to an art university there. It’s one of my dream schools.”

  
  


“I know it is,” you snap. “You know how I know? I’m your best friend.”

  
  


A blonde curl falls from the messy bun on her head and lands against her cheek. “I know.”

  
  


“Then why would you not tell me about this? This is a really big deal.” The words are coming out as a demand, purely out of anger. No matter how hard you try to not be emotional, you can’t stop the feeling of tears pricking at your eyes. 

  
  


“I know that too,” she says calmly. “This is something I have to do for me. And I didn’t want to upset you before I had to.” 

  
  


“That’s complete shit, Lucy.” The air between you feels like you could cut it with a knife, you crack your window as it starts to fog up on the inside. “How long are you going away for?”

  
  


“It’s a four-year school. And then I probably won’t be moving back here,” she says like an admission. “So I had to break up with him.”

  
  


You grit your teeth together as a hot tear slides down your cheek and you instantly wipe at your eyes before the rest can spill over. 

  
  


“Take me home.”

  
  


She looks over at you then and opens her mouth to say something. As soon as she sees the betrayed look on your face, however, she closes it and nods.

  
  


Both of you say absolutely nothing on the fifteen-minute ride back to town, and when she pulls up outside your house, you reach for the door handle immediately.

  
  


“Hey, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry it had to be like this,” she says, but it’s quiet enough that the sound of you shakily crawling out of the car is enough to drown it out. 

You’re reaching for your keys before she’s even pulled away fully, and as you start your car up, you take a long, slow breath. When the hiccups stop wracking through you, you start driving. 

The way to the Kiszka house is etched into your internal map now, to the point where you don’t even have to think about it - you just end up there. 

  
  


Sam opens the door as you rap against it, and he eyes you suspiciously for a second - like he’s not sure if he can trust to let you in. You give him as sincere of a smile as you can, and when he sees the evidence of your crying, he steps aside and helps you in with a hand spread out over the center of your back. 

The house is eerily quiet until you hit the living room. Josh is sat in the corner of the couch, curled in on himself, a blanket up to his chin. He looks so small that you feel your heart break for him.

When Jake spots you from the kitchen, he pops his head through the archway, a frown on his features.

  
  


“What’s going on?” he asks, a little rough. You can only imagine he thinks that you’re here to cause more damage, and as much as it hurts, you understand why he would feel that way.

You give him a forced smile and drop your bag to the floor before pulling off your boots. 

Sam crosses his arms over his chest as he sits in the armchair, looking like he has no idea what to do to help, but desperately wanting to help. 

You sit down next to Josh and tug the blanket off of him, and he’s so weak that he lets you. His swollen eyes raking over you is the only sign he gives you that he even knows you’re there, but you reach out and tug him against you. He tenses for a second before wrapping his arms around your middle and laying his wet nose on your shoulder.

He’s like holding dead weight, but you’re happy to do it, especially as Jake sits on your other side, and you can’t help but feel warm, being in the same exact positions you had been on the movie night that Lucy had set up for you. 

His hair is a mess of damp curls as you run your fingers through it. You don’t ask if he’s okay, because you know he’s not - not if his jumpy breathing is anything to go by. 

  
  


“Shouldn’t you be with her?” he asks, his voice wracked out and raspy. 

  
  


You press his face farther into your skin, just leaving him enough space to breathe. 

  
  


“Probably,” you admit. “But she made her bed. And you didn’t deserve this.”

  
  


You can tell that he’s all cried out, but he lets you hold him like that for a while anyway, Jake pressed up against your back. 

When Josh starts to fall asleep on your shoulder, Jake stands and crouches on the rug in front of him. 

  
  


“You should get some sleep,” he says simply, not having to note just how exhausted his twin looks as he pushes Josh’s curls out of his face. It’s really only early evening.

Josh nods his approval and lets Jake and you help him up. He looks stiff as he slowly makes his way up the stairs. Sam vacates the area too; you can see him pour himself a glass of juice in the kitchen and then lean against the counter to drink it, looking nearly as upset as you feel. 

  
  


As soon as he’s out of earshot, Jake turns your way. “I’m going to make sure he got into bed okay. Are you going to stay?”

  
  


You consider it for a moment. “Should we go lay with him?”

  
  


He looks a bit taken off guard but gives you a shrug and follows closely as you lead the way up. 

  
  


Josh’s room is...  _ Busy _ is a good word for it. 

  
  


There are colorful clothes in every material you could think of strewn about - laid on chairs and across dressers and spilling out of the drawers. Multiple stacks of old milk crates hold battered-looking vinyl records and equally used looking books are stacked here and there on almost every surface. 

He is laying with all of his clothes on in the center of his bed, on top of the blankets. It’s not the roomiest area, but you crawl in next to him, leaving plenty of personal space, and Jake does the same thing on the other side of him. 

It’s only early evening at best - you can tell because of the intensity and color of the light coming in through the slats of his curtains - but you feel tired enough to sleep. 

  
  


Josh is out pretty quickly, his breathing evening into a comfortable rhythm. You meet Jake’s eyes where he’s propped up on the other side of him, his back pressed against the wooden headboard.

  
  


Neither of you says a word, careful not to wake Josh, but you give him a genuine - albeit a bit sad - smile. 

  
  


You stay with them until the sun has completely vanished, and when you move to stand, Jake does too. You leave Josh sleeping and tuck a blanket over him, just in case. 

At the front door, Jake looks like he’s not sure how much you want to be touched. This is usually the part where you’d give him a kiss goodbye, but with everything that’s happened today, the best you can give him is a side hug. 

He doesn’t look too disappointed, but you also know that he’s a pretty good actor when it comes to stuff like this. 

  
  


“Drive safe, okay?”

  
  


The sincerity in his eyes makes your chest feel tight, and you suddenly have another thing to add to the list of shit you should feel guilty for. 

  
  


You nod at him and squeeze his hand as you head out the door. 

  
  


It’s not too late that when you stop at the same gas station on the way home, they let you buy a bottle of wine, and you drink it in your too-hot bathwater when you get home. You know that you should probably be crying, but the tears won’t come the same way they did in the car with Lucy, and you know you can’t force it, so you stop trying. 

When you get out of the tub, your skin is pink from the heat, and the cool air hitting it makes you shiver, but you walk around naked anyway. 

You sit in the middle of your bed and paint your nails at a snail’s pace. The bottle of wine has assured that they’re messy, but you’re happy enough with them that you just let them be as they dry. 

As gross as you know it is, you feel like you’re too cemented into bed to get up and brush your teeth, so you don’t. You flip the light off and tuck yourself in, and you’re dead asleep seconds after your head hits the pillow.


	8. Chapter 8

You allow yourself one whole day. 

  
  


One day to mope around your house, eating freezer-burnt ice cream straight from the container with a plastic spoon. One day to sit on your couch and watch old episodes of America’s Next Top Model while looking like an actual gremlin. 

  
  


Everything reminds you of Lucy. You’ve known her so long that she’s a normal part of your daily routine; the memory of her is tied to all the little parts of your life. 

You’re in the bath, listening to something admittedly too melancholy as you sink into the bubbles when you realize that you’re still wearing the little paper plane necklace she’d gifted you. The second you’re aware of it again, it feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

You lift your fingers to it, but they linger there instead of pulling it off. 

Your bottom lip starts to quiver, but you push the tears back, dipping your hand back into the water in defeat. 

  
  


+++

  
  


The shift at the cafe the next day feels long and tedious, much to your intense displeasure. Mid shifts always make you feel like you’re wasting a whole day, but luckily you don’t get scheduled for them often. 

You do your best to fake a smile and be quick and courteous as you work, but still feels forced. 

It’s close to 9 pm when you finally get out - your coworkers had left the place a complete mess, and you were scared that if you didn’t clean up thoroughly, you’d all be punished for it. Not to mention that you were working with tens of thousands of dollars worth of equipment, and you’d always felt the need to treat it with respect. 

As you’re locking up, you feel your phone buzz. It’s just some junk mail, but you instantly frown when you see you’ve missed a call and a text from Lucy. There’s no voicemail, but you open the text and scowl down at it.

  
  


**Lucy 6:41pm**

_ I know you probably need time, but I miss you. Please call me when you’re ready. XO _

  
  


You can’t help but sneer as you walk to your car. Once inside, you flick the heat on and go to put your phone away when you pause, staring aimlessly at the dash.

Before you can change your mind, you pull up Jake’s contact. 

  
  


_ What are you doing right now?  _

  
  


It takes him two minutes to reply, and you open up the message while you’re stopped at a vacant stoplight. 

When you see it’s a picture message, your pulse picks up, and you briefly wonder if you’re about to receive something racy, but it’s only an image depicting his hand buried in a bag of Skittles.

You giggle to yourself and set your phone back down on the passenger seat. 

  
  


When you pull up to the Kiszka house, he’s waiting at the door for you. 

  
  


“I was hoping to surprise you. How’d you know I was coming?” you ask in a hushed tone and he playfully rolls his eyes at you. 

  
  


“Not that tough to figure out,” he whispers back as he takes your coat from you. After he hangs it on one of the hooks, you reach out and wrap your fingers in his hair, tugging him close, and right there in the hallway, you press your lips against his. 

His body tenses for a second, presumably because of how out of character it is for you to do something like this, but as you go to pull away, he places a hand on your lower back and holds you there. 

You hum contentedly against his mouth, and after a second, he lets you free. He’s got that look on his face again - the one that hints that he has no idea what you’re going to do next - and that’s the way you like it. 

You turn from him, headed into the living room, but when you find Danny and Sam sitting on the couch, eyes wide from having just seen the whole display, you stop in your tracks. Danny even comically has a spoonful of cereal halfway to his open mouth. Milk is dripping from it onto his dark jeans. 

Sam lifts his eyebrows at you, and you offer an apologetic smile back. 

  
  


“Whoops,” you say to no one in particular, and glance back at Jake to find he’s wearing a smug smirk like he was waiting for you to realize you weren’t alone. 

  
  


He follows you up to his room and shuts the door behind you. 

  
  


“How are you doing?” You ask as you press closer to him again. He gives you a confused look. 

  
  


“ _ I’m _ fine,” he says like it’s obvious, placing a hand over his chest just for good measure. “How are  _ you _ doing?” 

  
  


You give him a genuine smile and a shrug as you perch on the edge of his bed. He follows suit and sidles up next to you, wrapping one leg underneath himself. 

  
  


“I’m okay.” 

  
  


He puts his hand over yours on the comforter, his brows furrowed. “It’s okay if you’re not.”

  
  


You had been expecting him to say something like that, but for some reason, it still feels like your chest is ripping open, so you swallow it back. 

  
  


You give him a minuscule nod, scooting closer to him and laying your head on his shoulder. With a quiet sigh, his fingertips rub against your scalp, keeping you there close to him. 

  
  


You let the rhythm of his breathing calm you until you feel comfortable enough to speak again.

  
  


“Everything is changing all at once,” you say, voice cracking just enough that you know he can detect it. “It’s scary.”

  
  


If anyone had told you that you’d be having a heart to heart with Jake Kiszka at any point in time before this, you would have laughed in their face. In all the years you’d been friends with Lucy, you’d struggled to reach this level of honesty. 

  
  
  


“I know.” His voice feels velvety so close to your face. He smells like candy and cigarettes. “But change is good. It’s easy to get comfortable with things that aren’t necessarily good for you.” 

  
  


You frown against his shoulder. “You don’t think she’s good for me?”

  
  


He breathes a humorless laugh, and after a thoughtful pause, he replies simply, “No, I don’t. She has a lot of growing up to do.”

  
  


At least you can agree on that. 

  
  


“When does she leave?”

  
  


You give him a bitter sounding hum. “I don’t know. I honestly couldn’t care less if she leaves tomorrow, at this point.”

  
  


“You don’t mean that,” he says, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone. 

  
  


You pull your head away from him so you can look at his face. “I wish I did.” 

  
  


He gives you a smirk. “I wish you did too.” 

  
  


You bite your bottom lip, wrapping your fingers in his hair and pulling him close enough that you can whisper directly against his ear. 

  
  


“Where are the Skittles?” 

  
  


An abrupt laugh rips through him at the sudden playfulness. You hear his hand rustle through a bag and then he places a single, lemon-flavored Skittle on your tongue. 

  
  


“You’re going to have to do better than that,” you say as you chew on it.

  
  


He cocks his eyebrow and gives you a teasing smirk. “You can have all the candy you want if you promise you’ll stay with me tonight.”

  
  


“Joke’s on you, Jacob. I was going to stay either way.” 

  
  


+++

  
  
  


As bad as it should make you feel to admit it, without the fear of Lucy catching you, you’re free to enjoy being around Jake instead of feeling like you’re walking on eggshells.

After you spent the night, you sit in the living room the next morning, sleepily watching cartoons as he makes pancakes - being sure to save enough for Josh, who hadn’t seemed to figure out how to take care of himself again yet. 

You still go to work, but half the time when you’re not there, you’re with Jake. 

Friday night, he picks you up from your house and fucks you in his car, dragging it out long enough that by the time you come, all the windows are fogged. You sit with him in the parking lot of a gas station that hasn’t seen a soul in years, talking over the Arctic Monkeys and taking drags off his cigarettes when he allows you to. 

You’d love to be able to pretend that being away from him doesn’t feel wrong, but it does, so you find every excuse to end up in his bed now and again - not that he’s ever asked you for one.

So that’s how you end up in his bathroom one morning around ten, brushing your teeth with the toothbrush that you’ve just started keeping in your purse. Someday you’ll tuck it into the medicine cabinet next to Sam’s face wash and Josh’s hair spray, and it’ll live there until you throw it out. 

You throw your hair up, not feeling like you have enough ambition to wash it for the day, especially with the weather being what it is. 

It started snowing somewhere around 6 am and the sun never really did come out. It’s one of those winter days where you stay in and sip hot cocoa. You weren’t even entirely convinced that you’d make your way back home. 

When you get to the kitchen, there are two bowls sitting on the countertop. One is full to the brim with Fruity Pebbles; so full that when Jake goes to pour milk in, a couple of bits fall over the lip of it. 

He gives them a rueful look and swipes them into his hand, delivering them to the trash can.

  
  


“We don’t have a whole lot of options for breakfast, but if you’re not into cereal, there’s fruit and stuff. Or I can make eggs,” he offers. 

  
  


You try to bite back a smile. “No, cereal is great.” 

  
  


He thrusts the box at you and starts munching away as he waits for you to prepare your bowl. The sounds of his crunching are weirdly comforting, and the whole atmosphere feels rather domestic. Your cheeks turn pink at the thought. 

You open your mouth to jest him about being a loud chewer when the ringing of a doorbell cuts you off abruptly. 

You can hear Sam get up from his nest on the couch - you aren’t convinced that he didn’t just sleep there last night, and it makes your body hurt just to think of his tall, lanky frame cramped up like that.

Assuming that it’s just Danny, you head through the archway into the living room with your breakfast, Jake close behind. 

It isn’t until you hear her voice that you halt on a dime. Jake bumps into your back and makes a noise in protest until he sees Lucy through the open door. 

Sam is standing in her way, posture entirely less than welcoming, especially since he towers over her. 

  
  


“What do you want?” he asks flatly as she offers him a graceful smile. You can tell that she’s trying her best to look as least threatening as possible, her hair tied up into a ponytail high on her head.

  
  


“I’m just hoping to get some of my things,” she replies, wringing her hands together nervously. 

  
  


You turn on your heel to retreat back into the kitchen before she can see you, but you’ve forgotten that Jake is standing right there and you knock into him, sloshing milk onto the hardwood. 

  
  


You curse under your breath as it soaks his socks, but he’s not paying attention to that. He hands you his bowl and lets you step past him. 

Sam turns to look at Jake, silently asking for his input about letting Lucy in.

  
  


“I think you should probably just go,” Jake says to her, his tone making your skin prickle. It’s brand new to you - something faux polite with an obviously livid undertone. 

  
  


She gives him a frown, pursing her lips. You know she’s going to try and argue with him - probably say that she’s given him enough time and that she needs her things, but. 

She spots you instead. Her whole face falls blank of any emotion. 

You’re half-hidden by Jake’s frame, but you step out more into the open once you know you can’t really hide away anymore. 

  
  


“What are you doing here?” she asks. Your heart, beating faster than it ever has in your life, breaks just a fraction at the hurt that’s evident in her tone. 

  
  


“What are you doing here?” she tries again when you don’t respond, a bit harsher this time. You know that she’s really upset because her normally melodic voice is now tight and shrill. 

The tension in the room is thick enough that you find it hard to breathe. You can tell Jake and Sam are both waiting for a bomb to drop. 

  
  


“I’ve been seeing Jake,” you respond, sounding significantly more confident than you actually feel. “A lot.”

  
  


Her dainty fingers are balled up into fists. “For how long?”

  
  


Jake huffs an annoyed sigh, pushing his hair away from his face. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” 

  
  


“A couple of months,” you say simply and watch her blue eyes pop open, almost comically. You can feel Jake looking at you, but everything is so overwhelming that you can’t bear to see his expression. 

  
  


“A couple of  _ months _ ?” she hisses back.

  
  


You nod, rubbing at your arm. 

  
  


“Were you never going to tell me?” She looks like she’s going to cry, but more from anger than anything else. “I thought we were friends.”

  
  


You give her a scowl, scoffing. “You can’t say that shit to me, Lucy. Me seeing him doesn’t affect you at all - you leaving the country for the rest of your life affects everyone you know.” 

  
  


She stares at the floor, but you’re not done. 

  
  


“Especially Josh! He treated you like an actual princess and you really did that to him. You’ve been with him for years and you don’t think you owed him more? I’ll admit that I should have told you, but don’t think that that excuses you from your mistakes.” 

  
  


When she looks back up at you, her teeth are clenched, tears threatening to spill over. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone - I’m just trying to move on with my life.” 

  
  


Your throat feels tight. You’d been friends with her for as long as you could remember - You never in your life would have thought she’d want to move on from you.

  
  


“Yeah, well. We are too,” you reply coldly. “Just go. I’ll bring your stuff and drop it off to your parents.” 

  
  


Picking the absolute worst time to pop in, you hear the hallway upstairs creak, and suddenly, Josh is standing at the top of the staircase. 

He looks significantly better than you would have thought - he appears to be only slightly disturbed by Lucy’s presence, arms crossed over his chest in a way that comes off as slightly protective. 

She peers up at him and suddenly it looks like it all washes over her - the weight of all the mistakes she’s made in the past months, all the people she’s hurt. You try not to feel prickly at the thought that she’d have to see him in order for that to sink in. 

She gives a nod and then retreats back out the door. You know her better than you’ve ever known anyone else in your life, so you know she’s crying before she even gets to her car. You also know you should feel bad - and somewhere deep down, you do, but you’re too angry to let it really swallow you. 

  
  


Josh makes his way down the stairs as Sam all but slams the door behind her. 

  
  


“What a fuckin’ mess,” Josh drawls, leaning against the edge of the couch and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. 

  
  


You nod in agreement, “Are you okay?”

  
  


He gives you a weak smile, running his fingers through his curls. “How about you?”

  
  


After a moment of thought, you reply, “I will be.” 

  
  


You try to stay and enjoy the rest of the day, but you can’t seem to really get the feeling back. The whole house seems to be shrouded in a veil of grey - everyone colored a forlorn shade. You head home about an hour after Lucy leaves. 

Jake gives you a concerned look as you offer everyone a hasty goodbye, and you wish you could tell him that you’re okay, but you can’t lie to him.

You think about it on your drive home - the snow coming down in fat, fluffy flakes and sticking to everything they touch. Somewhere along the line, you let that boy figure out who you really were, and the thought leaves you feeling overexposed.

You think back to the day in the diner, when Lucy had been talking to Josh but Jake had been staring across the table into your soul. You wonder if he’d always known who you were.

  
  


The empty feeling doesn’t really hit you until you’re home, doing dishes from days ago in a haze. You’re alerted to a new message when your phone pings on the counter next to you. Your hands are dripping with soapy dish water, but you can read it from where you are. 

  
  


**Lucy 6:47pm**

_ Please try to have my things back as soon as possible. I’m leaving on Sunday.  _

  
  


You grit your teeth together and stare at the kitchen tile. 

Sunday. 

Less than a week away. 

  
  


You take time to level yourself, and multiple times you have to stop yourself from picking up the phone and screaming at her. When you feel calm enough, you text Josh. 

  
  


_ Hey, I know it’s hard, so please don’t rush. But as soon as you get Lucy’s shit together, can you message me? _

  
  
  


**Josh K 7:13pm**

_ i can do that  _

  
  


**Josh K 7:13pm**

_ are you sure youre ok?  _

  
  
  


You heave a sigh and sit down on your couch. 

_ I’m okay. Message me if you need anything, alright? _

  
  


**Josh K 7:16pm**

_ u too _


	9. Chapter 9

You spend the next couple of days waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everything seems like it’s stuck in a state of purgatory until Josh texts you at 5:30 in the morning, informing you that all of Lucy’s stuff is packed up. You message him back, telling him you’ll be over around ten to grab it, and asking if he’d leave it out on the porch under the eve. 

You spend twenty minutes trying to force yourself back to sleep, but end up laying there in defeat, and you cannot properly express how angry that makes you.

You slink around your house, making a cup of coffee with a sneer. You pause before taking a sip, eyeing the couch and wondering if you’d have an easier time falling asleep there, but you decide against it when the smell of your butter cookie creamer gets too tempting. 

One cup turns into three, and you feel good and caffeinated as you shower to loud, peppy pop music. 

You text Josh back around 7:30, telling him that you’ll be early, but he informs you that the stuff is already outside. You crack a smile and ask if it got wet from all the snow - an idea that he firmly states his disinterest in. 

You dry your hair most of the way and wrap it up under a hat. It’s the coldest day of the year so far, so you bundle up tight before braving the short trip to your car. 

  
  


Her stuff is, indeed, wet. 

  
  


Or at least the bottom of the box is. You chuckle to yourself as you pick it up off the porch and haul it to your car. An old scarf acts as a sort of barrier between the cardboard and the seat since you don’t want the unpleasantness of soaked fabric.

  
  


The ten-minute car ride to Lucy’s house feels completely normal. You try as hard as you can to not think about anything but the thing you’re doing at that exact second, but as you pull up to the curb outside, you can’t stop eyeing the box with malice. 

It isn’t sealed shut, just sort of folded in on itself. You wrestle with the thought for only a second before reaching over and popping it open. 

You had expected to see clothes and phone chargers, so you’re a bit blindsided when you find a shoebox, full to the brim with Valentine’s Day and Birthday cards, handwritten love letters and a whole stack of pictures. 

One where Lucy and Josh are swimsuit-clad at the beach, one where she’s kissing his cheek, one of them for each prom and dance they ever went to. It’s beyond surreal to see them age that way - in outdated cocktail dresses and cheap, rented suits. 

You purse your lips together tightly, biting into the skin out of habit.

Digging deeper, you find one of Lucy’s favorite hair scrunchies - a pink, velvety thing that she wore countless amounts of times. You find a wristwatch that you’d helped her pick out for Josh’s birthday - barely worn because it was only for special occasions. One of her t-shirts is folded at the bottom with care. You know exactly which one it is just by the color of the sleeve. 

You can feel your body temperature starting to rise and your throat is suddenly tight. You really haven’t ever been what someone could call spiteful, but at that moment you make a decision out of anger. You pick up every single photo and spend moments ripping Josh out of each one - precise and clean so that only Lucy is left in the picture. Then you pack everything else back into the box and fold it back shut, tucking the parts with Josh in them into your glove box until you decide what you want to do with them. 

You consider knocking on the front door and saying something kind to Lucy’s parents - let them know that you don’t have any hard feelings for them. But you don’t, you just set the box on the front step. 

When you get halfway down the walkway you stop, just staring aimlessly for a second as your fingers brush over the necklace hanging against your throat. You know it's terribly cliche and melodramatic, but you turn around back around, unclasp it, and set it on top of the box. 

There are hot tears rolling down your face for the entirety of the ride home, no matter how hard you try to get them to stop. The neckline of your sweater is damp with them as you get yourself back into the warmth of your house. 

You hang your coat and hat back up by the door and take time to unlace your boots instead of struggling to just slip out of them like you usually do. 

Once you start crying, you can’t stop. You’d been putting it off for so long, letting the pressure build and build, that when you get upstairs and flop onto your bed, you just sob. You exist in a state somewhere between sleep and consciousness for hours upon hours, not really doing anything when you’re awake other than staring at the imperfections in the paint on your walls and dissociating from your problems. 

By the time you pull yourself up from the position you’ve melted into, it's the middle of the night. You’re haunted by that feeling you get when you take too long of a nap - it usually only happens to you when you fall asleep during the day and wake up to it being dark outside, which you guess is kind of what happened. 

You make your way into the bathroom to pee, stiff and sore from laying on your arm for hours. When you go to wash your hands, you catch your eyes in the mirror and the sight of them - all swollen and red - makes another sob wrack through you. You bawl so hard that you have to hang onto the lip of the sink to prevent yourself from collapsing to the tile. 

You run a bath that’s too hot and it makes your skin sting as you sink into it. Your body is pink wherever the water touches you, but you dip yourself even further into it as you think about how Lucy probably opened the box, picked up the mutilated pictures and cried. Just like you’re doing. 

She probably cried the entire day, packing her shit into pastel pink luggage. You wonder what she did with your necklace and if she’s still wearing hers. 

You roll your sore eyes at yourself. She had given you a fucking paper plane necklace. You probably should have known. 

  
  


You sit in the bathtub, letting the tears drip off your chin until the bathwater is lukewarm. 

  
  


The next day when you wake up, it's some time in the early afternoon. You were only scheduled for one shift at the cafe this week, but you call in, claiming that some stomach virus has you stuck in bed all day - which is kind of half true. 

You wish you could say that you’re a functioning adult, but for two straight days, you don't do anything at all but lay in bed, ignoring your cell phone and eating next to nothing. At one point, you make your way down to the living room and nest on the couch, but the windows are too big and the light makes your eyes hurt, so you end up back in your room. 

You pat yourself on the back for the little things, like brushing your teeth when you’re supposed to and watering your little plants. You figure that just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean that they have to be too. 

  
  


A sleep schedule seems like a thing you had in a distant past - you fall asleep whenever you can manage to shut your brain off for long enough and you wake up at all hours of the day. You mostly haunt around your bedroom, torturing yourself by remembering Lucy with every object in your house. 

_ She told me that she loved that painting on my wall. She wore that t-shirt when she slept over once. She used to sit at my vanity and do her makeup before we went out. That was her favorite shade of nail polish.  _

  
  


You’re lying face down in your pillow when you hear the noise of your front door closing. You lift your head, eyes wide. Your heartbeat picks up, fight or flight sense reminding you that you do actually have some will to live. 

  
  


The fastest you’ve moved in days is when you spring out of bed and round the corner, peering down the stairs. 

  
  


“Jake?” you squeak when you see him, standing in the foyer. When he hears you, he lets out a visibly relieved breath. 

  
  


“Where the hell have you been? Do you know how worried I’ve been about you?” he asks, a little harsh until he takes in the state of you. 

  
  


You’re in a pair of sleep shorts and a battered sweatshirt from high school. Your unwashed hair is barely contained in a messy bun. You can’t even imagine what the last couple of days have done to your face, but you know that your eyes are still sore and swollen from crying more than you’ve ever cried in your life. 

  
  


“Oh my god, come here.” His voice is gentle now like he’s trying to coax a wild animal to him. You don’t have to be asked again - padding down the stairs and practically throwing yourself into him. He wraps his arms around you and holds you tight enough that you can’t move. “Are you okay?”

  
  


You open your mouth to say yes, but as soon as you do, you can feel the tears coming, so you purse your lips together and shake your head. He puts his hand on your upper shoulders, rubbing circles there as he tucks your head under his chin. 

The deep sadness overpowers you, so you stop trying to push it back. He lets you sob against him until your breathing evens out and the tears won’t come anymore, and when you pull away, your face is hot with embarrassment.

  
  


“I’m sorry,” you rasp, wiping at your sniffly nose. “I’m a fucking mess right now.”

  
  


He shushes you, turning you around and ushering you back up the stairs. He helps you into bed again and by that time, you’ve exuded all of your energy so you collapse back, curling in on yourself. 

  
  


“Did you just let yourself in here?” you ask, smiling weakly at him.

  
  


“I was knocking for like five minutes. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts,” he explains with a deep-set frown. 

  
  


A feeling of shame washes over you and you give him an understanding nod. “I’ve been more or less catatonic for the past few days. I haven’t looked at my phone in-” You pause, trying to remember what day it even is. “I don’t know how long.”

  
  


“Look at me,” he demands, picking your chin up until your eyes meet his. “You don’t need to do this alone.”

  
  


You stare at him for a long moment before speaking again. “I just. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

  
  


“Currently, you seem to be shutting yourself in this house like a grieving widow. Which is exceptionally stupid since you could be doing all of this at our house.” He gives you a smirk, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. 

  
  


You frown, biting your lip. “How is Josh?”

  
  


“He’s okay, but I think it’ll be a while before he’s back to being. Well, himself,” Jake admits. The wording makes you giggle under your breath. 

  
  


The smile drops from your lips as quickly as it appeared. “She really knows how to fuck someone up, huh?”

  
  


Jake hums. “I’m glad that it happened though.”

  
  


The laugh you let out rips through the room, sounding just a shade bitter. You know that you shouldn’t be defending her in any way, shape, or form - it’s just that old habits die hard. “Did you hate her that much?”

  
  


“No,” he replies, shaking his head to indicate that you misunderstood. “I’m just excited to see what you’re like when you’re not thinking about her anymore.” 

  
  


Softened, you respond, “What do you mean?”

  
  


He looks like he’s trying to find the right words, running a hand through his hair and his tongue over his lips. “I just really like who you are when you don’t care what she’s going to think about you.” 

  
  


You meet his eyes, genuinely a bit stunned. There’s something that feels so raw about that statement. 

He takes your dumbfounded silence as a cue to continue. 

  
  


“That night on the porch - I think that’s the first time I’ve ever gotten the real you. Face to face.”

  
  


Your cheeks are flushed - you can feel it. Not just with embarrassment from the memory, but. Shit, he’s right. You’ve let people run your life for a long time. Spending time with Jake was the first decision you’ve made for yourself for almost as long as you can remember. 

  
  


“I’ve been a side character in Lucy’s life this whole time,” you whisper, almost to yourself more than for Jake’s benefit. You stare at nothing for a few beats longer. “That’s why this is so fucking hard. I don’t know who I am without her.”

  
  


As soon as you say it, tears start to well up in your eyes again. The realization doesn’t give you any kind of freeing feeling, no matter how much you want it to - it makes your throat feel tight. 

Jake cocks an eyebrow at you, giving you a little half-smile. He reaches out and cups your jawline in his hand, just in time for a tear to hit his palm.

  
  


“Sure you do. You love horror movies and candy and horny sounding alternative music. You love baths and coffee and breakfast food.” He pauses and you take the moment to release the breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

  
  


“What else?” you ask, not-so-secretly loving the warm feeling that his words are giving you. 

  
  


His smile grows wider as he presses his thumb against your lips. “You like taking care of people in any way you can, but you hate waking up early and you’d rather be too warm than too cold.”

  
  


The tender feeling of the moment is giving you an odd,  _ too big for your body _ sensation. You’ve been getting little glimpses of a gentler side of him, but this Jake is softer than you thought possible. He finishes with, “You show me who you are all the time.” 

  
  


You pull your hair out of the bird’s nest that you call a bun and smoothing it out before pinning it back up. It’s all a lot to take in, and you’re not sure if you can process everything happening today. All of your energy has been spent on miniscule self care tasks. You want to say something equally poetic, but nothing surfaces so you just settle on, “You’re too good to me.”

  
  


He rolls his eyes at you playfully, leaning back against your headboard. After a moment of looking you over, he asks, “Have you been eating?”

  
  


You want to lie to him, but you know you can’t so you just shake your head. “I haven’t really been doing anything, if I’m being honest.”

  
  


“Okay, will you be alright here by yourself for a bit then?”

  
  


You frown at him as he starts to get up off the bed. “Where are you going?”

  
  


The panicked quality that your voice has taken on is an issue you’ll have to visit at another time. 

  
  


“I’m just going to run out for some supplies,” he assures. 

  
  


“You don’t have to do that-” you start to protest but he cuts you off with a peck against your forehead. 

  
  


“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  
  


You listen to him get his jacket back on and as soon as he’s gone, you get yourself out of bed. Rubbing at your eyes, you start the shower, realizing that you probably look like week-old leftovers. 

As you wash your face and hair, you try to think of anything but the fact that you instantly mourn the loss of his presence when you part ways. You try not to think of the fact that his arms wrapped around you makes you feel safe. 

One thing at a time, you remind yourself. 

  
  


By the time you get out of the shower, he’s standing in your room with a backpack laid out on your bed.

You towel off your hair and change into a fresh set of clothes, and when you turn back around he has a bag of Taco Bell set out. He makes you look through it first and pick what you want to eat, and then he takes the rest. 

It’s admittedly really charming to watch him rigorously try not to spill lettuce and shredded cheese on your sheets.

  
  


“Jake, it’s fine,” you assure through a giggle, watching him pick each little crumb up by hand and toss them back into the brown paper bag. 

  
  


“Need I remind you that I have to sleep here too?” he teases, even though you know he’s only being tedious for your benefit. 

The statement makes your heart swell - you had been hoping since he showed up that you could fall asleep next to him, but you knew he’d make fun of you if you asked if he was going to stay. 

He finishes before you but patiently sits and waits while you eat, telling you about the stupid shit his brothers have been doing to each other. Apparently more free time was the last thing Josh needed because after Jake tells you that he’s been leaving uncooked eggs around the house for Sam to step and/or sit on, you decide that he’s the most chaotic person you know. You immediately start logging away Easter bunny related nicknames that you can torment him with at a later date. 

To settle in, you start pulling the bed sheets back as soon as Jake takes the food trash downstairs. He materializes a toothbrush from his backpack and you brush your teeth, side by side while you try not to be jealous of how pristinely white and straight his smile is. 

He strips down until he’s only wearing a t-shirt and briefs, and he crawls in next to you while you pull your laptop from the floor and turn on a Netflix nature documentary. Positioning the screen so that you can both see while you’re cuddled up to him is a bit of a challenge, but you make it work - Not that it matters because you’re so tired that you just lay your head on his chest and close your eyes. Later, when you’re half asleep, you can feel him trying not to jostle you around as he shuts the lid of the laptop and sets it on your nightstand. 

You want to live in this comfy, warm moment forever, even if you can still feel the damage done to you in the past couple of days. You try to stay awake as long as you can, but it’s all over as soon as he starts running his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your face. 

  
  


“Get some sleep,” he instructs at a whisper volume against the crown of your head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow @ garbagevanfleet.tumblr.com for more consistent updates ._.'


	10. Chapter 10

Jake stays with you for the better part of three days, only leaving to go grab another change of clothes or get something to make for dinner. You learn a lot about him in that time. 

  
  


You find out that he’s emotionally connected to his shampoo after you find it sitting on the shelf in your shower. You find out that he prefers cream cheese frosting on his cinnamon rolls, compared to the icing packet they provide. You find out that his five-year plan is fucking off to a farm in the middle of nowhere to raise baby goats. 

  
  


You learn a lot about yourself too.

  
  


You find that you don’t mind the cold that much when you’re sitting on your front porch, watching him smoke a cigarette. You figure out that men’s clothing is a hell of a lot more comfortable than women’s, and you find that the sound of him munching on baby carrots is oddly soothing. 

It’s so domestic that you have to stop yourself from slipping into a fantasy world where he’s with you all the time, making you waffles and pulling your legs onto his lap when you’re watching tv. 

  
  


Despite the fact that you don’t even so much as kiss throughout the entirety of his stay with you, it feels complete and perfect.

  
  


When Monday morning rolls around, you realize that Lucy already left and you hadn’t even remembered to worry about it - you’d been so wrapped up in playing old PS2 games with Jake on the fuzzy rug in your living room and eating kettle corn. Being one of three boys, he was unsurprisingly good at video games but you still managed to beat him a few times. 

You tell him to go back home on Tuesday - that he needs to see his brothers and take some time to himself. He seems reluctant to leave you alone, probably a little worried that you’re going to fall back into the terrible hellish spiral that you’d been in a few days ago - but you assure him that you’ll be okay. 

He packs up all of his stuff as you stay in the kitchen, washing a few dishes and trying to resist the urge to follow him around like a puppy. 

You meet him by the front door as he slings his backpack over his shoulder. It had started snowing in the early morning and hadn’t stopped thus far, so you try not to sound too much like a mom as you tell him to drive safe. 

He pecks a quick kiss against your forehead, pulling you close to him with one arm. He assures you that he’ll send you a message as soon as he gets home and makes you promise that you’ll take care of yourself. 

You tell him that you’ll try and then you see him off. You have to head back into the kitchen so you don’t sit and watch him get into his car like a freak, and even though you were the one that told him he should go, you still miss him instantly. 

  
  


You message your boss just after Jake leaves to let her know that you can pick up any hours that she’d need you for. In all your stupid drama, you had completely forgotten that Thanksgiving was days away, so she eagerly agrees. You make a mental note to get in touch with your mom, remembering that you’d only given her a very vague answer about coming to your parents’ place for the holidays. 

You work your newly acquired shifts, happy to collect a little extra income for Christmas time - you even spend time getting pretty before going into work, just because it feels kind of nice to take care of yourself. 

When you call your mother, she insists that you stay with them. You feel bad for failing so miserably at keeping in touch, so you agree to spend four days at their place. 

You leave the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and even though they only live about 30 minutes away, it takes you twice as long to get there - thanks to the unpredictable weather that the Midwest has to offer, it had snowed the entirety of Monday and into Tuesday morning. 

Your mother even commented on it, saying that she can’t remember a November that they had more snow. It’s so deep that it’s hard to carry your things up to the house from your car, but you manage with help from your dad. He gives you the obligatory “ _ jeez, how long were you planning on staying _ ” remark that every dad has logged away for when a member of his family packs more than one bag and you kiss him on the cheek. 

You spend all day catching them up on your life, conveniently forgetting to mention any kind of relationship with Jake Kiszka. They validate your pain over losing Lucy as a friend, but they do that thing that all parents do where they tell you to just give her time - that someday you should try to reconnect with her. You’re not sure that you ever will, but you pretend to be open to the idea for them. 

You help them shovel the driveway and they talk you into playing board games with them, and the whole experience leaves you feeling warm and fulfilled in a way that you’d forgotten you could be. 

Around 11 on the night before Thanksgiving, you get a message from Jake, asking if you have Thanksgiving plans. You kind of want to say no just to see what he’d say - if he’d invite you over, but you don’t. He wishes you and your family a happy holiday and you do the same, but you lay on your childhood bed after and stare up at the ceiling, thinking of him like a middle school girl. As a matter of fact, you think about him for the rest of the trip.

You think about introducing him to your parents and how charming he’d be with them. You think about him helping as you decorate your parents’ tree - the soft lights on his face like they were that moment when you locked eyes with him while you were on Mitch’s lap at that first party. 

After your parents see you off, making you promise you’ll return for Christmas, you think about him the entire ride home too. You know that if you head back to your place, you’d lie in bed, struggling to sleep because  _ you’d still be thinking about him _ . 

  
  


Your love-sick puppy brain decides that the only logical conclusion is to see him - right now. Because even though that won’t help you stop thinking about him, it will help to ease this terrible yearning you’ve been torturing yourself with. 

  
  


It’s Josh that answers the front door, giving you a teasing grin around a mouth full of...something. “Aw, how nice of you to drop in to see me at-” He leans back and peers at the clock in the kitchen. “Almost eleven o’clock at night.”

  
  


You give him an accusatory look. “What the hell are you eating?”

  
  


“Never you mind what I’m eating,” he snaps as he steps out of your way and lets you in. After a pause for dramatic effect, he offers you a cheeky smile. “It’s a banana. You want one?”

  
  


You laugh at him and politely decline. 

  
  


“Jacob is in his room, I think.” His tone is a shade too knowing for your liking. You shoot him a look over your shoulder as you head through the living room. 

The house has become a comforting thing for you. There’s a spot on the couch where Josh had presumably been perched up, a book laid out on its face to mark the page he was on. You can hear some folksy music carrying it’s way up the stairs from Sam’s room and the unmistakable sound of Danny’s laugh ripping through the melody.

You rap your knuckles against the door and wait for Jake to call out an affirmation from the other side. When you open it, he’s standing by his closet, tucking clothes away - the whole room smells like freshly washed laundry. 

He looks at you like he was expecting someone else. True to brand, he doesn’t let you see him shocked for too long before he gives you a genuine - but cheeky - smile. 

  
  


“Hey, did you have a nice time at your parent’s place?” he asks warmly, but you don’t respond - you don’t want to alarm him, but you have a lot to get off your chest before you chicken out. Okay, maybe you want to alarm him a little. You drop your bag and then shrug out of your coat, letting it fall to the floor. 

  
  


Your blood is really pumping as you cross the room, grab him by the collar of his shirt and press him up against the wall with force. This time, he can’t hide the startled look on his face. His bottom lip drops open and he blinks at you as you crowd into his space. He goes to say something, probably something snarky and teasing, but you give him a look that causes him to instantly shut his mouth. 

  
  


“I’ve been thinking,” you say and it comes out breathier than you’d expected. You tighten your grip in the fabric of his shirt as you try to calm your nerves. 

  
  


“About what?” he prompts carefully after a moment of silence. 

  
  


You let out a shaky breath. “About you. And about how you were right.” 

  
  


You pull him from the wall and start walking him backward until the back of his knees hit the bed, forcing him to sit. As you crawl over him, you can tell that he’s holding his breath, waiting to see what you’ll do or say next. 

  
  


“You were right, Jake. I haven’t been making any decisions for myself for a long time,” you continue as you start to pull up the hem of his t-shirt. His eyes watch your hands, the muscles in his stomach flexing as you play your fingers across them. “I never even liked Mitch. And I can’t even tell you how many things I let Lucy talk me into - shit I never would have done alone.” 

  
  


He’s giving you an amused look now - you can tell his brain is working as hard as it can to try and figure out what the fuck you’re talking about. 

  
  


You hold his jaw in your hand, fingers pressing in a little tighter than they need to. 

  
  


“I can’t stop thinking about you,” you admit like it pains you, pulling his face in close. “I think about the shit you say and the way your face looks and how you fuck me real slow sometimes.”

  
  


The last part makes him rake his teeth over his bottom lip, eyes half-lidded. His hands hesitate but come to rest gently on your hips like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you. 

  
  


“I’ve always liked you,” you whisper like it’s a secret, lips almost touching his. “Even in school, I had a terrible crush on you. But it’s a different feeling now.”

  
  


For the first time in your life, you witness Jake blush - across his cheeks and nose a lovely pink shade. If you weren’t so intensely focused on what you were doing, you’d take a long moment to appreciate it; try to etch it into your mind. 

  
  


“What are you trying to tell me?” he asks through a simultaneously humorless and breathless laugh. You swallow hard before continuing. 

  
  


“I’ve got it real fucking bad, Jake. From the very beginning of  _ whatever _ this is, I’ve wanted to be able to say that we’re a thing. And I know that if we just kept going on like we are now, things would eventually work out, but.” You put your hands on his chest and push him back until he’s flush against the bed. 

He’s staring up at you, mesmerized like he’s watching stars fall across the sky. His next words come out soft, almost a pleading tone. “Make the decision then. Tell me what you want.” 

You shake your head, knowing there’s no clear and concise way to say what you’re feeling, but you’re going to try your best. 

  
  


“I want to be able to not feel bad for physically hurting when we part ways. I want to go on a date with you in public and not worry about it,” you explain quickly. “I want you to be my-”

  
  


You pause, biting your lip. 

  
  


“Say it,” he prompts with a disbelieving smirk.

  
  
  


You can feel yourself blushing as you rake your nails over his chest, bare since you hiked his shirt up under his arms. 

He must sense your hesitancy because he cups your jaw and brings your face back close to his, his eyes looking more sincere than you’ve ever seen them before. “I could tell you that we’re dating- fuck, I could tell you that we’ve been dating this whole time, but you would still have to allow yourself to accept it.”

  
  


You thought you’d had everything planned out perfectly - knew exactly what you were going to say to him, but your whole brain blanks out as he speaks. 

  
  


“No one’s making you feel bad for wanting to be with me in  _ any _ capacity but yourself,” he says, so close to you that his lips brush against yours with every word. 

  
  


“Oh,” you breathe, coming up blank when you try to think of anything more coherent to say.

  
  


He takes a deep breath, prompting you to do the same and he lets you collect your thoughts for a few seconds in silence.

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel naked. It never fails to shock you how he can see right through all the walls you try to build in your head. You’re not happy as a human being unless you’ve compartmentalized every aspect of your life, but then again, that’s never really actually made you happy, just comfortable.

As his fingers rub against the skin on your hip bone, you’re forced upon the jolting realization that he’s always liked you too. Back in the diner when he inquired about your boyfriend and when he’d caught your eyes as Mitch kissed your neck.

How fucking stupid could you be? The mortified look on his face that you’d mistaken for him taking issue with your mortality had clearly been him- Jealous? Disgusted because he knew you didn’t care about your boyfriend at all, and he thought you were just letting Mitch do that to you?

Fuck.

  
  


“I-” you start, but instantly snap your mouth back shut. Talking to him now feels like rebreaking a bone that has healed incorrectly. 

  
  


He waits, patient as ever for you to work through it all in your head, and even now, he looks like he knows exactly what you’re thinking -word for word. 

  
  


“I thought I didn’t deserve you,” you whisper shakily. “But I think I was just scared of feeling vulnerable with someone.”

  
  


He suppresses a humored smirk by pursing his lips together. “So what do you want from me then?” he asks under his breath. “You want the whole boyfriend experience?” 

  
  


You nod at him vigorously. “I want the whole thing. I want to keep yearning for you while we’re apart, but I want to do it while wearing your sweatshirt. I want my pillowcases to always smell like you, and I want my toothbrush to live in your cabinet.”

  
  


The smile he’s wearing is unique - it has a bit of a proud quality to it. He nods at you and simply says, “Okay.” 

  
  


You wrap your fingers in his collar again as he sits up on his elbows and presses his forehead firmly against yours. “I want to be with you in every way that you’ll let me. I want everyone on Earth to know that I belong to you,” you state, just as sincere and honest as you feel. 

  
  


The intensity in his eyes changes from soft and romantic to something more raw instantly. His fingers flex into your skin, jaw tightening as he lets out a low hum. “Can you say that for me again?”

  
  


You give him a faux innocent smile. “Say what?” you tease, even though you already know exactly what he wants. 

He wraps his fingers in your hair, moving you so his lips can drag against your throat. Not ready to give up control, you place your hand on his chest and push yourself up until you can scramble off. 

He gives you a look like you set a piece of cake in front of him and then forbade him from having any. You roll your eyes at him for being so dramatic as you unbutton your jeans and tug them down until you can step out of them. 

You take more time with his, fumbling unnecessarily with the button and zipper just to draw it out. You don’t tug them all the way off of him, just let them sit bunched up on his thighs, greatly restricting his movements. 

When you climb back onto his lap, you can feel him - already rock hard. He places his hands on your hips and grinds you down onto him. Letting out a shaky breath, his eyelids flutter as you take the reins again. You drag along his cock through the layers of fabric, humming a moan when the head of it brushes against your clit. 

You reach to unclasp your bra, shrugging until the straps fall and you can tug it out from under your sweater. It gets discarded onto the floor, and instantly his hands are slipping up your top. 

His fingers brush over your nipples - already perked up from the lace of your bra rubbing over them. He makes sure he has your eyes on his as he pinches them between his thumbs and forefingers, watching you suck in a breath. 

After that, he can’t decide if he wants to keep torturing you, or if he’d be happier just cupping your breasts, kneading them with his fingers. He seems to decide on alternating between the two. 

You can’t complain - between the stinging pain and the tingly drag of his cock against your clit, you’re soaking wet and ready for it. 

You slide back far enough that you can tug the waistband of his underwear down and take him into your hand. You slide his cock through your fists a few times, and even though you can’t rip your eyes away from what your hand is doing, you can feel him staring at you.

  
  


“Your cock is incredible,” you breathe, watching his jaw tighten at the complement. 

  
  


“Yeah, you seem to really like it.” As you rub your palm over the head of it, spreading a bead of precome, his breath catches - which is an admittedly satisfying punishment for the smugness of his voice.

  
  


“Love it,” you correct pointedly, holding his eyes as he bites on his lip. 

  
  


You let it lay on his stomach as you climb back over him. Teasingly slow, you pull your sweater off, hovering over his hips to deny him any needed pressure. 

He decides to take you by surprise, never one to let anyone else have control for too long - He sits up, placing a kiss in between your breasts, his hands cupping your ass. You hum, fingers wrapping in his hair to keep him close. When he licks a broad stripe up your chest and then turns his face to suck a nipple into his mouth, a moan tumbles out of your open lips.

You pick that moment to slide his cock into you. He hisses a shocked breath as you sink onto it, his eyes intensely on yours. 

You pick up an agonizingly slow rhythm, rolling your hips every time you push back onto him. 

Normally he’s not very vocal during sex, but he’s letting little sounds escape his lips without even realizing it, you think. 

He grips the back of your neck and pulls you into a heated kiss - instantly his tongue is in your mouth. You lick back against him, enjoying getting reacquainted with the taste of him after not knowing it for a while. 

You can tell that he’s resisting moving too much, trying to let you have the lead, but his hips keep bucking up on their own accord. The idea that it feels so good that he can’t control his body makes your face hot. 

It’s absolutely apparent when he hits the right spot because a high pitched squeak slips past your lips and into his mouth. You try to angle your hips so that the slide gets you every time, but luckily you’re not working at it alone. With his hands on your waist, he guides you down - like he knows exactly how this goes. It would be endearing if you didn’t feel like you were already close to coming. 

You bury your face in his neck to muffle the sound of your near-constant string of moans. Sinking your teeth into his defined jawline, you come for the first time with his fingers wrapped in your hair and his hips doing all the work for you. 

The fingers on his other hand flex tightly into your back, rough enough to leave some light bruises. 

  
  


“God, fuck,” he breathes into your ear, sounding a little strangled. “Unreal.”

  
  


Colors dance behind your eyes as the pleasure washes through you like waves. When you move to sit up, he wraps both of his arms around you, holding you flush against him as he thrusts up into you. The speed and force should be overwhelming, but instead, it just prolongs your orgasm. 

Your whole body is tingly - from your scalp to your toes you have goosebumps. 

You go to say his name but it comes out as a more of a growl, to your surprise. He seems spurred on by the sound because he pulls his legs onto the bed, placing his heels on the mattress and using the new position to drive into you harder. 

  
  


Your lips fall open, eyes shutting tight. The feeling is so intense, but you can tell he’s close, so you just hang on for your life. When he comes, his movements shudder, nose pressing into your cheek so you can hear every little change of sound leaving his lips. 

He’s heaving breaths - you both are - as you lay there, trying to recover. You feel like you’re squishing him with your dead weight, but he doesn’t seem to be hurting for it. As a matter of fact, he holds you so tightly that you’d think he was preparing for someone to try and take you away.

  
  


You lay there so long that you’re concerned that you’re going to fall asleep. When his arms go lax enough, you sit up and clamber off of him. You dress in whatever clothes you can find as he watches you, looking a little more smitten than you’ve ever seen him be. 

He joins you in the bathroom after you’ve cleaned up and you brush your teeth together in front of the mirror. You playfully elbow him for space and he tries not to spit toothpaste everywhere as he laughs. 

  
  


“I should go home, but I’m afraid I’ll have to see one of your brothers,” you admit sheepishly as you get back into his bedroom. “And I know I was just screaming.”

  
  


He hums from his bed, grinning as he stares up at the ceiling. “That’s okay, I wouldn’t let you leave anyway.”

  
  


You can’t suppress a smile as you crawl in next to him, thinking about how it wasn’t all that long ago that you’d slept with him for the very first time and thought you’d never have the chance to again. 

He gently nudges you until you’re on your side, facing away from him, and then presses against your back. There’s nothing on earth as satisfying as knowing it’s freezing cold and snowing outside and you’re cuddled up with him, leeching his body heat. With his arm around your waist, his fingers laced through yours, you sleep harder than you’ve slept in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @garbagevanfleet.tumblr.com for more writings!


	11. Chapter 11

“I’m nervous,” you say over the rim of your coffee cup. Jake, sitting across the table from you gives you a half smile. 

“What could you possibly be nervous about?”

The diner is busy as ever, full of people enjoying burger baskets and salads for lunch. Jake still picks at your fries, even though they’ve long since gone cold. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone out with him, but the feeling of having such a perfect human being escorting you around hasn’t lessened. 

He had invited you over for dinner with his family tonight about a week ago and you haven’t stopped worrying about it since - and even though you hadn’t mentioned it to him, you knew he could sense your jitters. 

“What if they don’t like me?” you ask, biting your bottom lip. You know it’s silly, but you think it’s a completely normal thing to consider when meeting your boyfriend’s parents, right? You guess you wouldn’t know, because you’ve never had a serious enough relationship to get this far before. 

He rolls his eyes at you playfully. “You already know Josh and Sam,” he reasons, then gives you an uncharacteristically warm smile. “They’re all going to love you. You’re very loveable.”

You can feel the tops of your cheeks turning pink. He isn’t usually one for PDA unless he’s drunk, but he lays his hand over the table, palm up and you take it. You share a tender moment, just reveling in knowing dating him in public is somehow even hotter than fucking him in private.

His fingers brush over the pulse point on the inside of your wrist, so he feels it when your heart rate picks up. At this point in knowing him, you’re convinced that he can read your face to a near-perfect accuracy. A small smirk on his lips, he asks, “You wanna get out of here?” 

You nod at him, blush only deepening and he instantly pulls a twenty from his wallet and lays it on the table. You both get your coats on, you a little more hurriedly. 

When you get out to his car and slip in the passenger side, he puts his hand on the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss so deep that it takes your breath away for a second. 

You end up back at your place, not only because it’s significantly faster, but also because he’s been staying there. Every other day, there’s a new item of his materializing somewhere in your house, and every time you find something unfamiliar, you take a second to cherish it. 

Clothes get shed up your stairs, and you’re both completely naked by the time he lays you out on your bed. 

He’s a smart enough man that he hasn’t gotten too gentle with you now that things are official and it’s not just sexy sneaking around anymore, but this time, he’s soft. He kisses odd places like your temple and your shoulder and spends plenty of time doing it, just to let you know that he appreciates every part of you. 

As he fucks you, he holds you close and presses his nose against your cheek, and when you’re both spent, you both just lay there on your backs and stare up at the ceiling for a moment as you catch your breath. 

You’re entirely positive you’ll never get used to the feeling of being his. 

+++

You tell your parents about him somewhere around a month after making it official. They’re a little shocked to hear that it’s one of the Kiszka kids, but they strongly encourage you to bring him around. Your dad even promises to not be too embarrassing, which you don’t believe but appreciate the effort anyway. You decidedly do not tell them that Jake told his family about two weeks before you told yours.

It’s a Monday evening when you sit down on your bed and open the lid of your laptop. Jake is gone back to his house for the night, having family commitments the next morning. He invites you along, but you lovingly decline, telling him that you could benefit from some time to yourself. 

The Skype app pops up and usually you just exit out of it right away, but a particular name catches your eye and your breath hitches. You’ve sent Lucy a couple of texts, but they’ve been nothing more than just very formal and casual - making sure she’s doing okay and such. You haven’t seen her face since she left, and just the idea of that feels like a hole in your heart. 

You decided you were going to just go for it, and she picked up the call after just a couple rings, giving you a sheepish smile right away. Her shiny, blond hair is shorn up to her shoulders, framing her sweet face perfectly. She still looks the same though - perfect skin, a pink blush on her cheeks and lashes so long that they leave you envious. 

“Hey, wow,” she says, tucking a lock behind her ear. “I’m surprised to see you.” 

You were terrified that it would be awkward, but you find yourself giving her a genuine smile. “Yeah, I kind of am too,” you reply in all honesty. “How is Europe treating you?” 

“It’s so great. I’m still getting used to everything - mainly the food. The food is kind of bland, but I feel like I fit in really well here in London, you know?” 

You nod at her. “Yeah, I knew you would. Are you making friends?”

She chuckles at you. “Kind of. People are a lot harder to impress around here, but I think I’ll get there.” She pauses for a long moment before her face falls. “I’ll never find one as good as you though.” 

“Sure you will,” you say, giving her a melancholy smile. “And I’m right here. You know, in case you need me.”

She looks truly touched. “Me too.”

There’s a long silence before she cracks a bit of a devious smile. “So.”

“So?” you ask, just a little nervous of what she’s going to say. 

“How is everything going with Jake?” she asks, flashing you her pearly white smile.

You purse your lips together to hold back a smile, but talking to her now feels just as familiar as it did before she left. “It’s. Perfect. We’ve been officially dating for about a month.”

You can tell that she lets out a breath that she was holding and gives you a look that confirms that she’s truly happy for you. “Aww. Tell me about it.” 

You just shake your head, not sure where to start. “We just fit together really well, you know?”

She nods, prompting you to continue. 

“I don’t feel like I ever really need to tell him anything - he just. Knows. We’re on the same wavelength or something.”

“I’m so excited for you.” You can see the sincerity in her blue eyes from halfway across the world and it makes you feel warm. 

You stare at the keys of your laptop for a moment before cracking a smile. 

“What?” she asks. 

Normally this is where you would shove the feelings down and not deal with them until they were a problem, but that’s not you anymore - or at least you’re trying to ensure it won’t be. 

“I, uh. I think I love him,” you say, quiet, but then louder the second time. “I really think I do.” 

When you meet her eyes again, she looks like she might cry for you. She has her petite little hands over her mouth and you can see that her almond-shaped fingernails are painted a powder blue. 

“Wow, oh my gosh. I never ever thought I’d hear you say _that_.”

Your face feels hot as you let out a hum. “Yeah, me either.”

“Are you gonna tell him?” she prompts expectantly. Behind her, you can see that her room is decorated from the floor to the ceiling. You can see her fluffy pink rug and her floral bedspread. It’s so weirdly comforting that you let out a relieved breath. 

“Yeah, I will. Eventually,” you agree. “But I’m just enjoying the feeling of it being my secret right now, you know?”

She nods at you with a beaming grin. “Yeah, I suppose you never really got that in our teen years.”

You bite back a smile of your own. “It was worth waiting for. I met his family for the first time a couple nights ago - we had dinner.”

Her eyes pop open wide. “Wow, that is serious. How was it?”

“I think I did okay,” you say through a giggle. “I was nervous as hell at first, but they’re all so nice.”

“Yeah, they really are.” After a beat, she works up the courage to ask, “How is Josh?”

“He’s great, honestly,” you reply without having to exaggerate at all. “He tags along with us sometimes, but I think mostly he’s just loving getting to do his own thing.”

She looks like she lets out a sigh of relief of her own. “That’s great.”

After another pause, she speaks again. “I miss you guys a lot.” 

You offer her an empathetic smile. It’s the best you can do for the time being. “I miss you too. Not sure about Josh though.”

She lets out a laugh, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Yeah, I wouldn’t expect him to. Hey, listen, I gotta run. But this was honestly so nice. I hope we can do it again soon?”

You nod at her. “I’d like that.” 

+++

When spring rolls around, the snow takes its leave and you can finally see the grass again, you decide that you just can’t stand to be inside a second longer. You two join Josh, Sam, and Danny for a hike, and as much as your legs burn afterward, they’re still not as sore as your ribs from the amount of laughing that you’d done on the ride there. 

Jake had been staying with you - for real - almost all of his stuff moved in. You had given him a key right away after you started dating, but you knew it was really real when you came home from work one day and found a couple of his guitar cases propped up against your kitchen cabinets. 

You had never really pictured what having a real boyfriend would be like, but you definitely never imagined that one of your favorite things would be grocery shopping with him - being stupid and acting like children up and down the aisles. 

Or maybe it was making breakfast with him on Sunday mornings. You started taking Sundays off just for that reason. 

Lucy comes back to visit her parents in the early summer and when you see her, you pull her into a tight hug. It isn’t perfect, and it isn’t exactly like it used to be, but sitting and talking with her at the diner leaves you feeling full. You see her a few times before she leaves, and the whole experience reminds you that you exist as your own person. 

That’s why, when your lease runs out, you don’t resign it. You and Jake decide that moving into a new place together would be a great new start. It takes you close to two months to find something that’s just right, but unpacking things with him serves to convince you that it’s perfect. As a housewarming gift, your parents buy you a new set of dishware, and you lovingly replace all of your mismatched plates and bowls, returning them to the very thrift store that most of them came from. 

You had been thinking about adopting a kitten for a long time. Jake hadn’t been crazy about the idea of a cat at all, but when you take him to the animal shelter under the guise of letting him look at the dogs, he falls in love with a senior cat. It’s missing a couple teeth and it can’t move very fast, but watching him pick it up really carefully and pet it as gently as he can manage is so heartwarming that you couldn’t imagine taking home anything else. 

As you sit on your couch, listening to the sound of Jake dragging a wooden spoon across the bottom of a metal pan as he stirs through dinner, you truly realize how light you feel. The weight of grief just doesn’t live within you anymore, and you know it hasn’t for a long time now. Cutting loose parts of your life had been some of the scariest stuff you’d ever had to go through, but as much as you loved the relationship you used to have with Lucy, and as much as you felt comfortable living alone in your first apartment, you realize that you don’t want any of that back. 

Knowing Lucy like this - seeing you both be truly happy and thriving - is something you couldn’t give up. You grew up together, just not in the way you had ever pictured it being. 

You love Jake and the life you’ve built with him over the past few months, but you also know that if it ended someday, you’d be okay. You’d be devastated, but you’d survive, and that knowledge is invaluable to you.

As terrifying as it had felt to let go of the life you were comfortable with, you were proud that you forced yourself to do it, and you’d be damned if it hadn’t all been worth it.


End file.
